


Heart of Gold

by KZ55



Series: Robes of Green [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Dirty Jokes, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, F/M, Friendship, Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley Friendship, Harry potter & pansy Parkinson friendship, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Implied Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-05-19 11:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 108,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14873069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KZ55/pseuds/KZ55
Summary: The first entry in my Robes of Green series.At the end of the day, Harry Potter, Slytherin's famous third-year student, is still just another kid among the rest. Follow our lad as he goes around having fun, while simply living out his life at Hogwarts, regardless of a notorious convict being on the loose.Currently under minor rewrite which might cause some inconsistencies.





	1. The Signed Slip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I own nothing in the Harry Potter franchise, all such content belongs to J.K. Rowling.]

_Number 4 Privet Drive, August 6th, 1993._

In the summer holidays preceding Harry's school year, Aunt Marge once again takes up residence at the Dursleys' place. Past experience has solidified Harry's loathing of this woman, and even the Dursleys themselves dread her presence. It's simply impossible for Harry to hold any form of civil conversation with Aunt Marge.

"Don't daydream when I'm talking to you, boy!" snaps Marge, seated at the dining table during a late morning breakfast. Harry looks up and suppresses a gag at Marge's appearance as she continues to spew out insults. "You need to be more like your cousin; Dudders here is a real gentleman, and it helps that he wasn't born from a bunch of drunks."

Whatever remarks Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia might throw out seems almost harmless compared Marge's tirades. And this is why Harry's long since grown out of his dislike of the Dursleys.

But now, fury builds up from within Harry as the dining table shudders and shakes.  _Gotta get that form signed... Gotta get that form signed... It's just Marge that's full of crap; the rest are alright_.

He tries his absolute best to flood his mind with anything other than Marge's insults. To everyone's, including Harry's, relief, the table eventually ceases its vibration. The expression of relief seems clear as day on Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's faces.

"Now, what's the meaning of all this shaking?" asks Marge, glancing quizzically at the table.

"I'm going for a walk," mutters Harry, earning a scoff from Marge as she speaks.

"Absolutely not; how dare you walk away from the eating table! Vernon, this boy's manners degenerate by the day." She harrumphs and folds her arms, glancing behind her as a nearby vase seemingly knocks itself over.

"Actually, I say the boy should go outside for a bit of fresh air, Marge," says a visibly nervous Uncle Vernon, while Aunt Petunia nods in approval.

"What? Did you forget that he's attending St. Brutus? The boy's a hopeless case of violence and criminality, remember?" Marge glances at both Uncle Vernon and Harry. In response, the former pokes Harry with the back of a spoon beneath the table.

"They're always watching me, yeah. If I catch on nonsense, then I'll receive the worst beating of my life when I go back," says Harry, lying to maintain his ruse in exchange for Uncle Vernon signing his Hogsmeade slip.

"Bah, I'd sooner call the police to keep an eye on this one. Are you absolutely sure about this, Vernon? I will not be held responsible for any damage your degenerate does to this neighbourhood," states Marge.

To Harry's left, Uncle Vernon nods, having previously allowed Harry outside. "You'd better be back by no later than 3 this afternoon, you hear? And if you do see that convict, Black, from the TV, don't expect us to come help."

"I'm more concerned that your boy will mingle with that Black." Marge pours herself yet another glass of brandy.

"Why would I 'mingle' with an escaped convict?" asks a baffled Harry, before swiftly recalling the need to maintain his ruse. "I'll come running straight home, yeah. Otherwise, I'd be beaten and starved for days back at St. Brutus."

Uncle Vernon nods in relief. "Well, go on then, would you?"

Equally relieved, Harry all but sprints out the front door for some freedom at last. Little does he even care for wherever this Sirius Black bloke could be; all that matters is putting himself as far away from Marjorie Dursley as possible. Sure enough, a lengthy stroll takes Harry to the empty playground where a lone girl sits spinning on a roundabout.

Unsure of how to approach a Muggle his age, Harry hesitates while speaking. "Hey, um, hi."

Round and round spins the girl, until gesturing for Harry to stop the roundabout (which he does).

"Hey there," she greets, her blue eyes and brunette hair capturing Harry's attention. "Um, Holly Nates, that's my name, yeah."

Right after introducing himself, Harry's brief bit of pride fades away. It's clear that his name means bugger all here in the Muggle world, which is particularly evidenced by a giggle on the girl's behalf. Harry briefly wonders if this encounter is too good to be true, for nobody has been this friendly to him out here before.

"What's with that funny-looking scar?" asks Holly, scanning her eyes across Harry's forehead.

"It's, uh, I was born with it," he lies.

"A lightning-shaped birthmark? Weird but cool, I guess. So, are you here by yourself?"

"Yeah, not like I have a choice though." Harry flinches in surprise as Holly leaps off the roundabout, landing with a thud beside him. She reaches down into a rucksack, which Harry hadn't even noticed on his way to greet her, and withdraws a pair of quad roller skates.

"I do have another pair, if you'd like. They're surprisingly fun! Huh? Oh, it looks like someone's coming this way," says Holly.

"What's this? Potter's got himself a friend? A girl? Wait till I tell Dudley!" says a boy whom Harry recognizes all too well: Piers Polkiss, one of Dudley's worst gang members. The kid with a rat-like face stands snarling at a visibly perturbed Harry, for the latter can do little here in a Muggle park. "Come on, Potter, do something, or are you afraid to fight?"

Turning to glance at Holly Nates beside him, Harry apologizes for getting her involved in what is an all too regular occurrence in his life. "This is why I hardly have any friends around here, just so you know."

To his surprise, Holly steps forward with her blue eyes narrowed in dislike. "Piss off, would you? Can't a girl even talk to a friend around here?"

"Think I'm afraid of a girl? Why you hiding behind her, Potter? Come on, put 'em up and let's fight," says Polkiss, raising his fists towards a sighing Harry. The latter places his arms on his hips while a dejected expression crosses his face. If only one could use magic on Muggles, then he'd certainly Hex Dudley's gang indeed.

"Hey, you know what?" Holly bends to gather stones in her hand. "PISS OFF!" Harry nearly doubles back in shock as Holly flings whatever she can towards an equally shocked Polkiss, the bully now covering his blitzed head.

"What the—? Screw this, man. Keep your crazy chick to yourself!" yells Polkiss, evading a sizable stone which just about misses his neck.

Harry roars with laughter as Holly's assault carries on for a good few seconds until Polkiss flees from the park. "That was great!"

"Thanks; I hate idiots like that, seriously. They have no right to pick fights and then run at the first sign of getting whopped," says Holly, swapping her sneakers for roller skates before passing a rather well-fitted pair to Harry.

"I, uh, can't quite roller skate."

"Nonsense, boy, you'll learn pretty quick. Took me awhile to work such stuff, but hey, look at me now." She gracefully demonstrates skating a few metres along a relatively safe pathway. Unwilling to disappoint his first Muggle friend, Harry fits on his skates as Holly dumps his shoes into her bag, unfazed by their dirt.

She now grabs him by the hand and speaks. "I'll go slowly, but I'm pretty sure you've got good balance. There's a shop just a few streets away that sells ice cream. So, let's go get some, Potter boy!"

"I've literally got no money on me," admits Harry, wondering if this marks the end of a brief friendship. After all, what girl would want to hang out with a penniless guy like him? But if he were back in the Wizarding World, then things would be different.

However, Holly merely scoffs and shakes her head. Her pretty blue eyes closing ever so slightly as she chuckles. "So, you're a  _peasant_?"

The sheer audacity of insulting him like this nearly breaks Harry's heart, but he expects nothing less from the Muggle world. Unable to respond, he busies himself with trying to skate a meter or two.

"Just say it, Harry Potter, you're a peasant. Go ahead and admit it," insists Holly, her giggles eating at Harry's confidence.

"Fine, I'm a peasant. Happy now?"

"Well said, now let's go eat." She steadily skates ahead, glancing beside her with a mischievous smile as Harry seems to be getting the hang of things. They continue through the park before advancing onto tarmac. "I'm not a such a big fan of dogs, you know," states Holly, as they swerve around to avoid any neighbourhood pets defending their turf.

"Yeah, I've had my share of bad experiences with them," replies Harry, deciding upon retelling the clashes with Marge's favourite pet, Ripper. He feels both embarrassed and yet amused at Holly's laughter towards his sad stories. "So, where are you from?"

"Out of town, I suppose. What school do you go to?"

Harry considers his deal with Uncle Vernon, even though it only concerns lying to Aunt Marge. He wonders if he should maintain the St. Brutus ruse or lie about attending an 'ordinary' Muggle school. The former is risky, but the latter could easily be checked for a lie. "You really wanna know?"

"I won't judge you, seriously, you're making it sound like there's something to hide," says Holly. A brief glance at him causing her long hair to whip through the wind.

"Alright then; St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys," he replies, feeling his heart sink with dread.

But Holly merely shrieks with a laugh that echoes down the quiet suburban street. "Oh, I'm sorry! Forgive my outburst but that is the most ridiculous name I've EVER heard," she admits, now coming to a halt at a T-junction.

"Yeah, I'm an incurable criminal," states Harry, trying to put some emphasis in his lie.

"Well, you haven't robbed nor taken advantage of me yet, so maybe the rehab's working," she says, unable to stifle her laughter.

"I guess so."

They eventually turn right before Holly stops at a small shop on their left. She then whips out a pink purse from her jeans pocket, pays in Muggle coins (which Harry's rarely had much of), and receives two wrapped ice creams from the freezer. "Here you go, Potter boy."

"Thanks!" Harry takes his dessert and is quite surprised by this stranger's generosity, seeing as he's only known Holly for barely an hour.

"Don't worry about the costs; just shitty peasant money, anyway," she says, before returning all the way to the park. By the time they stand overlooking the nearly empty field again, Holly and Harry both unwrap their treats.

But someone appears to be approaching, and it's a boy slightly taller than Harry. "Hey, aren't you Dudley's loser cousin?"

Harry sighs at yet another blemish on an otherwise pleasant afternoon. "Yeah, so what?"

The boy moves forward, nudging a surprised Holly aside as he shoves Harry backwards; the quad skates causing him to tip over onto his back.

"I'll take that treat, and your cousin will know you're sneaking about buying stuff without giving 'em to him," says the boy, now unwrapping and biting off a sizable chunk of Harry's dessert. "And who's this chick? Don't tell me you're Potter's friend? Are you kidding—" He glances left as Harry storms forward.

"BITCH!"

"That's what I'm talking about!" Holly removes her skates, throws her rucksack to the ground, and cheers as Harry catches the Muggle boy off-guard with a hectic knee to the gut. Now she stands over the suffering boy and scoffs. "You brought this on yourself, idiot. Here, since you wanted it so badly..."

Harry watches on, in amazement, as Holly shoves the now grass-covered ice cream into the crying teen's mouth.

"All talk, but just a fat little crybaby in the end." She begins kicking the Muggle in his (already painful) gut until he begs for mercy through his stuffed mouth. "I'm so sorry about your shitty life here, Harry Potter," says Holly, rubbing Harry's back before deciding to swap his skates for shoes as Harry sits upon the ground. "Don't get upset with the world, you can't blame everyone for a bunch of idiots. Still, it was lovely to see you standing up for yourself around here."

"Oh well, there's always school to look forward to." Harry swiftly clears his throat. "Ahem, uh, I mean St. Brutus is better than this, even with the beatings. Yeah, I, um, just dished out what I'm used to getting there, yep." He sits up and sees Holly offering her own clean wafer.

"You can have it, or we could share it?" asks Holly, gesturing to the already opened treat.

"But it's yours."

"Ours now, take a bite," she says, and Harry digs into the delicacy, savouring its wonderful flavour. Muggles sure know how to make their treats, he'll give them that. While chewing in delight, his eyes widen in horror at something laying right beside him: his wand. With a quarter wafer in his mouth, Harry swiftly swallows before snatching it up, checking to see the girl's response.

"Please keep your stick in your pants," she says, before shrieking with laughter once more. "Such a silly boy, Harry."

"Oh yeah, my 'stick' haha." In mere seconds, the wand is tucked away by Harry. Then he offers the wafer back to its owner as she looks behind him. "What's wrong?"

"That's a strange dog for your little neighbourhood, Harry." She points towards a great black dog approaching the boy lying meters away. Fortunately, the Muggle gets to his feet and flees the park with a dirty wafer still shoved in his mouth. "Shit, man, I can't exactly take a dog like that on here!" says Holly, before Harry devises a plan.

"I tell you what; let's leave it and run like bloody hell," he whispers in Holly's ear, before tossing the wafer ahead for the dog to devour.

"Wow, I've never seen a dog munch an ice cream like that before," says Holly.

"Who cares? Let's run!" Harry grabs her by the arm as they flee for their lives, seeing as the black dog appears savage indeed.

Although their legs burn from the sudden sprint, adrenaline powers Harry and Holly down a few streets until coming to a halt in Privet Drive. Breathless, they bend over to recuperate with Holly resting her arm on Harry's shoulder. Regardless of the sweat soaking their clothes, they've at least survived an uncertain encounter.

"Since we're here, how about heading home? I'd really love to meet your family," says Holly.

"You seriously don't want to meet them, honestly."

"I do, honestly." She beams as Harry leads her down Privet Drive and towards number 4. Standing at the front door, Harry knocks until the sounds of footsteps can be heard from the porch.

"It's about time, boy," says Uncle Vernon, his eyes darting to Harry's left. "And who's this supposed to be?"

"She's a friend–"

"Holly Nates, I'm from out of town and won't be staying long. So, you won't have to bother with me being a nuisance," she says, grinning at Harry's gawking expression.

Uncle Vernon scoffs and guffaws with laughter. "Petunia, Marge, Dudley! Come see this: Harry's made a friend!"

Dining chairs are pushed out just moments before the rest of the Dursleys hurry towards Uncle Vernon at the door.

"She's not bad," says Dudley, to which Marge sneers most disgustedly at Holly.

"This boy's a delinquent left behind by a bunch of drunk parents who got themselves killed under the influence! Set your priorities straight, young lady."

Harry calms himself with past memories such as when Marcus Flint whacked Oliver Wood with a Bludger. But even though Harry remains at ease, a glass cup (in the dining room) somehow shatters which causes everyone but Marge to panic.

"Must have left it at the edge of the table," she says.

Bemused, Harry knows that he couldn't have caused this incident. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, however, mumble in panic as they begin ushering Harry to his room upstairs.

"So long, Harry; it's been really nice meeting you out here," says Holly, her farewells cut short by Marge's hostile demeanour.

"Ugh, 'so long' indeed, forever long! You will not be making any more friends to influence around here, boy. Is that understood?"

Harry merely nods and bids farewell to his first, and most likely last, Muggle friend. But before she leaves, Holly gives him a surprisingly mischievous wink which has Harry momentarily baffled again.

"Move, boy!" mutters Uncle Vernon, forcing Harry towards the hall. Seconds later, the latter peeks through a window to spot Holly casually walking off down the road to the left. But all is not lost, however, as Uncle Vernon eventually corners Harry near his room upstairs. "Listen here, boy; Marge hasn't really seen anything abnormal yet. Keep it like this and I'll sign that hocus-pocus slip of yours soon, alright?"

Indeed Harry does, for the memory of the kind, yet feisty, Holly Nates gives him the boost to withstand nearly everything thrown at him over the remainder of Marge's visit. By mid-August, at last, Uncle Vernon honours his end of the deal by signing Harry's Hogsmeade permission slip.

But these are merely the memories of a third-year Slytherin currently sitting beside the Quidditch pitch...


	2. Snakes and Lions

_Hogwarts Broomshed, Mid-September, 1993._

The air is bitterly cold, unseasonably so, as Harry sits within his much frequented broomshed. He leans back, sighs, and stands up to approach his old Nimbus 2000 in a nearby corner. Pangs of guilt stab at his chest, begging him to fly his first racing broom once more. But times have changed, and he therefore reaches out to run his hand along his Nimbus 2001.

"Another day of hiding from the guards of Azkaban, huh, Potter boy?"

Harry spins around to face one of his dearest friends standing in the shed's doorway. How silly of him to not have recognized the lovely voice of Pansy Parkinson. The girl whose jet black hair seems forever styled in a bob, green eyes glinting with mischief, and perfumed scent filling this little room.

"Uh, where'd you come from so suddenly?" asks a startled Harry, though feeling a soothing warmth in Pansy's presence. She steps right up to him while removing her neck scarf.

"A troll could sneak up on you, judging by how you walk around these days," says Pansy, wrapping her scarf around Harry's neck. Moments later, the latter looks over Pansy's shoulder to scan the Quidditch pitch through the doorway. Then, Harry strides forward but stops just short of it, his gaze darting to the skies above.

"They're still out there, aren't they?"

"Fear not, scaredy-Potter, for I shall lead you past the spooky outside world." Pansy giggles and warmly cups Harry's cheeks before holding him by the hand. Her grip nothing short of a tight squeeze. "The Dementors aren't even in the grounds, silly."

"Yeah, but I can feel their horrible presence almost a mile awa—Hey!" Harry yelps upon being almost dragged outside by Pansy. Their shoes trudging along cold, wet grass as the pair make their way back towards the castle. They stride across the open grounds and soon ascend its slopes towards the wooden bridge. From here, they race across its length before ending up in the clock tower courtyard. Harry, however, briefly struggles to keep up with his vivacious friend even as she holds him by the hand. "Slow down already."

"Hurry up then, baby Potter, before the Dementors come and getcha, wooooooo!"

"Not funny," sighs Harry, jogging behind the amused Pansy. They eventually spot groups of students, mostly Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, wandering about outside. Looks of curiosity, amusement, scorn, (and slight envy) now come Pansy's way. "People are watching, Pansy, oh man this is so childish."

"So what? Let 'em watch."

"Well, when you put it like that..." responds Harry, his cheeks slightly heated even through the breeze on his face. The pair of Slytherins steadily make their way up the clock tower, and towards the fifth floor, where more groups of students loiter about. But Harry hardly cares for their reactions while Pansy leads him to the grand staircase, which they take to a floor of her choosing. Everything appears to be going well until being confronted midway through an empty corridor.

"Where you off to now, Potter?"

Harry spins around and spots three Gryffindors heading his way. "Finnigan, Thomas, and Weasley. Ain't got anything better to do than follow us here?" He sighs in exasperation at this unnecessary encounter.

Ron Weasley steps forward with a slightly optimistic expression. His hopes swiftly fading as Pansy now stands before Harry with her wand raised. Her expression daring the Gryffindors to draw their wands. "Harry's got enough to deal with already, so back off,  _peasants_."

"Hey, I was just trying to strike a conversation with him, no need to get rude," says Ron, opting to remain calm and composed.

"What the hell do you want, Ronald?" asks Harry, gazing over the shoulder of the protective girl before him.

"Why are you so hostile, man? I just wanted to speak," says Ron, "Forget whatever misunderstandings we may have had in the past. In fact, we kinda made a decent team at times, eh?"

"I don't like you, Ronald. Seriously."

"You heard Harry, get lost!" says Pansy, her defensive nature bringing a fuzzy warmth to an otherwise perturbed Harry. With left arm outstretched before her, right shoulder raised and elbow bent, she grips her wand tightly. "Don't make me Hex the hell out of you three. You don't want to see me when I get angry..."

"Blimey, Parkinson, you should calm down a bit."

Although Ron tries to be the better man, it's Seamus who loses his cool. "Potter! Do you know who your pal reminds me of? There's this madwoman me mum once told me about from the papers. Uh...Bellatrix something, you know?" He scoffs at Pansy, causing the latter to narrow her eyes and ready herself for battle. To Seamus' right, Dean Thomas speaks up in amusement:

"Oh yeah, I remember reading about her from the old articles. Yep, I'd say Parkinson's just as nuts as that imprisoned woman."

"Yeah, and Potter here's got himself a little future version. Just look at her getting all crazy defensive over him," says Seamus, sniggering mockingly at the fuming Pansy. "Your pal ain't so great, Parkinson. I mean, isn't Potter scared of the Dementors or something?"

_"Furnunculus!"_ A jet of golden light erupts from Pansy's wand, blitzing through the air and hitting Finnigan right on his neck. His allies race to draw their wands as Seamus sits upon the ground, yelling in pain from the boils erupting on his neck.

"That's it, fine!" groans Ron, shaking his head in disappointment. "At least I tried to act all civil and stuff here, Potter, but your girl's gone absolutely mental again."

Meanwhile, Dean Thomas is knocked back from a sudden  _Flipendo,_  courtesy of a wickedly grinning Pansy. This leaves Ron to just about side-step a Disarming Charm fired by Harry, although the former gets caught by another knockback jinx shot by Pansy. After landing flat on his back, Ron rolls over and finally aims a Trip Jinx at his attacker.

_"Protego!"_ yells Harry, conjuring up a weak barrier before his friend. "Oh crap, not again..." He facepalms as it shatters upon impact, having once again underestimated Ron's offensive capabilities.

"You guys see that?  _Shield Charm,_  my arse," says Ron, grinning as his Jinx sends Pansy face down with a thud. With a quick glance behind him, Ron rallies Dean back onto his feet to assist. "Get up and fight while there's still time!"

"Go gloat somewhere else,  _Expelliarmus!_ " Harry's jet of red blasts Ron backwards while flinging the latter's wand from his grip. "You alright, Pansy?"

"Ugh, bloody peasants... Hey, watch out!" Pansy urges Harry to remain focused, but it's a tad too late as Dean catches Harry square in the legs; they tremble as he falls to the ground from whatever Dean had just fired.

"Stupid, filthy Mudblo—" Pansy's eyes dart from Harry to Dean ahead, "Ahem, 'Muggleborn',  _Flipendo!"_ Dean finds himself blasted back by yet another Knockback Jinx today. With their little skirmish amounting to nothing but petty insults, the trio of Gryffindor boys soon back off and sprint down the corridor. All seems quiet for Pansy, until she turns around to spot none other than Hermione Granger helping Harry to his feet.

"Hello, Parkinson; I thought you two might end up resorting to violence yet again," says Hermione, patting specks of dust from Harry's robes.

With his legs freed of their Jelly-Legs Jinx, Harry scratches the back of his hair, cheeks heated in embarrassment. "I had that all under control."

"Oh, sure, of course you did," says Hermione, suppressing her giggle while flashing a grin.

"Uh, where'd you come from anyway?" asks Harry. "I could swear I saw you outside just moments ago. Are you stalking us?"

"Like I said: I thought you'd end up in a confrontation sooner or later. No offense, Harry, but Ron's a bit more than you can sometimes handle." Hermione gently takes to neatening Harry's shirt collar as he speaks:

"Yeah, I gotta admit that, even though I don't like him, Ronald's pretty good with his new wand."

"Why didn't you stop that fool, Granger? Weasley's your pal, so you ought t—" Pansy scowls as her tongue is silenced by Hermione's spell. Although muted, the former remains hesitant to attack someone on good terms with Harry. If things were different, then she'd surely bully this Muggleborn Know-It-All on a regular basis.

Hermione folds her arms while her eyes gleam with amusement. "Shame, Harry, you should've just used  _Depulso_  on Parkinson, or perhaps an Anti-Jinx. But you simply had to try and play the dashing hero with  _Protego, hmm?_  Even I can't do that one yet." After reversing the effects of  _Silencio,_  Hermione steps aside for Pansy to approach Harry.

"What are you staring at, Granger?"

"If you'd let me, I could help you with History of Magic," says Hermione , offering her assistance with one of Pansy's least loved subjects.

"I don't your help, Muggleborn," scoffs Pansy, blinded by pride while rejecting the offer.

Soon, Hermione reaches into her bag to withdraw a roll of parchment which she passes to Harry. Unrolled within the latter's grip, it's immediately viewed by a beaming pair of Slytherins. Pansy, as usual, laughs at a visibly envious Hermione as Harry reads over his latest Potions assignment.

"An ' _E'_  for my first one of the year. So, do  _you_  want some tutoring,  _Miss Granger?_

"It's obvious Professor Snape favours you Slytherins,  _Mr. Potter_. Because I worked my arse off and only managed a high 'A'." Hermione sighs upon seeing the usual sly grin on Harry's face. "Too bad I happen to beat you at everything else."

"By the way, just how in the world did you manage to get hold of my assignment?" asks Harry, while Pansy remains full of smiles as she reads through his work.

"Simple, I asked Professor Snape," responds Hermione, grinning at Harry's gaped expression.

"He just handed it over? To a Gryffindor?"

"And a Muggleborn too," adds Pansy, though unwilling to push any further with her remarks.

"Anyway," says Harry, sorely wishing to change the topic, "Pansy and I were going to look for an empty classroom to chill. However, we could practice some Potions with you, for a fair price, hehehe..."

"And what would that be?" Hermione rolls her eyes in response to Harry's usual sly suggestions.

"I've only ever met one nice Muggle girl before," says Harry, while Pansy shoots him a strange look. "How about a kiss and a hug, Miss Muggleborn? I am the  _King of Slytherin after all_ —ouch!" He drops to his knees as Pansy punches him in the side.

"Bloody pervert."

"On that we can agree," says Hermione, gentling helping Harry to his feet once more. "How many times am I going to be helping you off the ground today?"

"I'd have thought you, of all people, would be used to his antics," says Pansy. "Come and join us in the common room, Granger, then he'll lay on your lap too. On second thought, stay the hell out of our common room, Polyjuice schemer. Don't think any of us have forgotten about that stunt yet, Muggleborn."

An amused Harry sees Hermione sighing as she responds with: "Had to be done, sorry," while Pansy remains glaring at her. As the minutes pass by, the trio of Harry, Pansy, and Hermione certainly makes for an odd gathering in the middle of this empty corridor. Then, suddenly, Pansy gasps after sitting between Harry and Hermione against a wall.

"Oh crap," she says, "I almost forgot that Daphne, and the other three, wanted some girl time in our dormitory! Well, cheers, Potter baby."

"Hold up, here's your scarf," says Harry, returning the snugly warm accessory to its owner. Pansy stands up, apologizes, and swiftly hurries down the corridor en route to the Dungeons.

"Yeah right," states Hermione, sitting with her legs outstretched. Now, she curls up to rest her head on her knees while looking at Harry to her left. "Frankly, I'm more worried about you, especially considering all this Sirius Black talk."

Harry scoffs before replying, "I really don't give a rat's arse about this Sirius Black character." Trying his luck, Harry grins as Hermione allows him to rest his head on her left shoulder. "My favourite bushy Muggleborn."

"Gryffindor's got a new Seeker after yesterday's tryouts," says Hermione, " You might be interested to know that it's none other than... take a guess?"

"Hey, don't play games with me, Mugglebun." Harry yawns while awaiting Hermione's response. "Just say it already, so I know whose butt I'll be kicking in November."

"I've been told that Ginny Weasley's a pretty impressive player," says Hermione, eliciting a gaped expression from Harry.

"That little one I saved from the Chamber of Secrets? Ginny, as in the Girl-With-a-Crush-on-Famous-Harry-Potter, can actually fly well?"

"That's what I've just said, Harry, so open your ears and listen. You should've seen her put Roger Malone in his place during tryouts. Poor guy never truly stood a chance."

Harry adopts a thoughtful posture while stroking his chin. "Rate Ginny on a scale of 1 to 10, Quidditch-wise, I mean..."

"I'm no Quidditch expert, but maybe I'd reckon a 7, if you're a 9," responds Hermione, glancing to her side at the pensive expression on Harry's face. "What are you planning there, self proclaimed  _King of Slytherin_?"

"What broom is she using?"

"Something terribly ancient for such a talented little Seeker. Ginny doesn't show it, but I can tell she's extremely sad over not being able to afford anything better," states Hermione, and Harry cannot help but flash a knowing smile.

"Yeah, I sure as hell know what being deprived is like." He stands up and stretches out. "Anyway, let's get on with the rest of our week, shall we?"


	3. Potions Class

_Viaduct Entrance, Ground Floor, September 17th, 1993_

The large room, with its double doors leading to the terrace outside, seems abuzz with students scurrying about in the minutes before their first period. Harry stands to the left of this room, grateful to have gotten a breath of fresh air outside before starting his day. To his right sits a large, stone staircase leading up to a corridor connected to the first floor. But with Potions being Harry's first lesson for today, he ignores the staircase in favour of the archway before him. Elsewhere, quite a few third-year Gryffindors and Slytherins pass by, and Harry counts just over a handful of his class; the rest having used the alternate dungeon stairs near the Great Hall. For the next few minutes, both Harry and Pansy enjoy their pre-class chat until Professor Snape arrives.

The Potions Master walks right past them while headed for the spiralling staircase (past the archway). "Potter, you'd better cease your loitering and get to class right now."

"It's like I wasn't even present at all," says Pansy, sniggering at Harry taking the blame once again. "Oh do cheer up, my  _itty-bitty-baby-Potter_."

"Hmph, it's always me, isn't it? Well, he can hate me all he wants, but my marks speak for themselves." Harry rushes ahead, robes billowing about not unlike Professor Snape, and hurries down the staircase. Though upset, he relishes the thrill of speedily descending the spiralling design before stepping into the dungeon corridor. Hurried footsteps descend the staircase behind Harry as Pansy comes trailing along. Skipping the final two steps, she decides upon leaping off to save time, landing on her feet with a thud beside him.

Meanwhile, Professor Snape taps on his watch, indicating his dwindling patience while standing at his classroom's entrance. "One more minute out here and I'll be forced to dock points from my own House, Potter."

"Yeah, sure, we're coming, sir!" Harry grabs Pansy by the hand as they sprint down the corridor. Both students fearfully dash past their Potions Master, grateful at his apparent mercy towards their late coming, and compose themselves in the doorway. All eyes are on them as students of Gryffindor and Slytherin briefly cease their bickering from within the classroom.

"Thought it was Professor Snape," says Draco Malfoy, seated with Blaise Zabini while directing his insults across the oval-shaped classroom. "Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah, I can't tell if that's your cauldron or toilet pot, Weasley."

"Did your father buy that cauldron for his pampered little daddy's boy?" retorts Ron, causing his group of friends, and quite a few other Gryffindors, to snigger. Harry, however, notes the exasperated look on Hermione's face, who also happens to make eye contact with him. He shrugs at her, as if trying to understand what he's just missed. The exchange is brief, however, as Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown glare at Hermione for smiling at 'Potter'. Knowing what it's like to be an outcast—from his time at St. Grogory's—Harry decides upon turning away from his precious Gryffindor.

"At least my father can actually afford to buy stuff, instead of handing things down from Merlin's time," states Draco, eliciting mocking laughter from throughout the Slytherin section.

"Wait, wait, wait! I got the best one yet, guys," says Ron, "What happens when a Malfoy tries to be cool?"

Dean Thomas immediately raises his hand and speaks in a sarcastic tone, "Please do tell us, Ron."

Seamus pipes up next, sniggering, and raises his hand. "Do those bandages on his arm mean anything?" This is followed by nudging Neville Longbottom until the usually timid boy joins in.

"He m-misunderstood the H-Hippogriff."

"Whoa there, did  _Longbottom_  actually speak up?" asks Pansy, her arm resting on Harry's shoulder. "Did I actually hear a fat little crybaby trying to join his crowd?"

The rest of the Gryffindor boys—namely Dean, Ron, Seamus, and Roger Malone—swiftly jump to Neville's defence.

"Piss off, pug-face," states Malone, deliberately pressing down on his nose to mock Pansy. Incensed by the insult, Harry spins—his robes accidentally sending one of Snape's jars crashing to the floor—to face Malone.

"There's nothing wrong with Pansy's face, you moron; she's far prettier than a little troll like you could ever hope to become."

Angered looks cross many a Gryffindor's face at Harry's insult, while giggles and soft applause come from the Slytherin girls. Before Harry can attack further, however, the already opened door slams against the wall.

"Professor Snape, sir, Potter broke one of your glass jars!" states Ron.

"Is that true, Potter?" asks Snape, standing before a visibly nervous Harry.

"Y-Yes, sir."

"Give him detention and take House points," says a grinning Roger Malone, still upset over Harry's remarks against him.

Pansy steps forward, putting herself between Harry and Snape, before clearing her throat. "Ahem, Malone was insulting my looks, sir, all Harry did was stand up for me."

"And this?"

"It was an accident, sir, Harry never meant to damage such valuable property. Those boys were being unbelievably rude," says Pansy, much to the Gryffindors' disbelief.

"Fine," says Snape, casting a spell that swiftly repairs the glass. "Once again, Potter, circumstances seem to work in your favour. Now, take your seat and be silent."

Harry shoots a grateful smile to Pansy as both students rush over towards an empty workstation on the left of the room. But Snape's not finished yet, and he carries on speaking:

"Both of you, Weasley and Malone, should learn to speak only when needed. 6 Points from Gryffindor and detention for Weasley, Malone, Finnigan, Seamus, and Longbottom." Snape strides forward to his blackboard, his glare silencing any further protests. Meanwhile, Harry whips out his textbook and looks up to see Pansy gazing at him with head on hands.

"So, I'm pretty eh?"

"Took you long enough to figure that out," replies Harry, quieting as Snape immediately begins his lesson on the Wideye Potion in a scathing manner. There's no shortage of insults as he notes how some students, namely Neville, may require such tonics in class.

"Take note, so you can all brew it up at Gryffindor Tower. I assume you are all actually listening as I'm speaking?" Snape resumes with his explanations regarding today's procedure. "Add 6 snake fangs and 4 standard ingredients to the mortar..."

Soon, it's time to brew, and Harry busies himself with fervently following instructions, desperate to avoid embarrassing himself once more. He glances upon his textbook, follows Snape's tips from the blackboard, and gets on with his task. Every so often, he makes eye contact with Pansy (who's busy at her own cauldron) as she fervently works through today's lesson. Although by no means an O-Grade student, her efforts earn her a nod from the passing Snape.

"Good," is what Harry hears from the Potions Master, causing the former to breathe a sigh of relief. He now eagerly watches, while suppressing a giggle, as Snape strides over to Ron and company.

"Don't dwindle, Finnigan; once more, your cauldron appears ready to explode." Snape waves his wand to vanish whatever's being brewed. He then resumes his admonishment of the Gryffindor boys and criticises a girl named Fay Dunbar for her failing to produce anything worthwhile. "Excellent work, Miss Davis," notes Snape, striding between various desks of Slytherin students. "Acceptable, Miss Perks."

Harry leans out of his desk, and behind Snape's back, to gesture a thumbs up at Tracey. This also causes Blaise to pat the tomboyish girl her on her back, to which she elbows Blaise on his side. Throughout the next few minutes, Snape goes from desk to desk, passing comments on the varying quality of work. Eventually, to many students' relief, the clock tower bell sounds to signal the end of Potions. Slytherins casually pack away their possessions while Gryffindors, with the exception of Hermione, hurriedly pack up.

"I expect each and every student in this class to continue studying, and that should be done regardless of feedback," says Snape, shutting the door with a spell while speaking. "Potions requires ongoing commitment and, at this level, I'm expecting far more from most of you. Dismissed." He turns around and takes his seat as the students file out.

"Come on, let's go!" says Pansy, tugging on Harry's arm until he stands up. With his books already packed, Harry flings his bag across his shoulder before Pansy offers hers. "Be a gentleman, Harry."

How could he refuse to carry his dearest Slytherin's schoolbag? Naturally, Harry flings the rather feminine one over his shoulder and speaks. "It's not even that heavy, you know; Feather-light Charm and all that." Once in the corridor outside the class, he finds himself being mocked at by Malone and Thomas.

"Loser, Potter the pack donkey."

"Boy-Who-Lived-To-Carry-Others'-Books."

Harry would certainly love to retort, but Pansy's poking on his arm says otherwise. "Just ignore them; you can't get upset over everything. Besides, they've already got detention anyway."

"Enjoy detention, suckers. Oh, and I like how, after you finally made the team last year, you got kicked out by Ginny Weasley," says Harry to Malone. "You couldn't even beat me when I had a rogue Bludger on my tail." He then shoves Malone aside before exiting the cold dungeons en route to his next class.

By late afternoon, Harry settles down, alone, in an empty classroom with a bag of treats in hand. It's just two days until the birthday of a dear friend, but Harry's opted to jump the short queue and wish her right here today.


	4. Charming Slytherin

By half past four, there's barely an hour to go until dinner as Harry awaits his guest. Minutes of pacing pass by before he hears a knock followed with the classroom door being opened.

"Harry, I'm supposed to be revising today's notes, as I usually do, after classes. Why'd you ask to meet here?" asks a clearly confused Hermione.

"Happy Birthday, my bushy-haired best friend."

"Oh gosh, I've almost forgotten!" Hermione's looks from Harry (who's nervously scratching the back of his hair) to a few packages on a table. "So, these are for me?"

"I know your birthday's the 19th but figured I'd jump the queue and wish you early." Harry feels a familiar warmth in his chest upon seeing Hermione's beaming expression.

"Oh, thank you! I really do appreciate your efforts, honestly."

A firecracker now explodes outside the classroom, startling both Harry and Hermione as they instinctively stand closer. This, however, only causes more cheers and whistles to sound from the corridor outside.

"Kiss already!"

"Use the Parseltongue and ready the snake!"

Harry doubles back in surprise as Hermione furiously groans. Gently nudging him aside, she stomps over to yank open the door, but their eavesdroppers have already fled. "I'm so sorry about that, darn Weasley twins keep pestering people."

"How the heck did they even know we were here? Nobody followed me and I made certain of that."

"I really don't know," sighs Hermione.

"Well, I was enjoying the sight of you getting all emotional."

"Hmph, never."

"If that's what you say, birthday babe." Harry offers to help pack the treats he's gifted before smiling. "Shall we walk together?"

"Sure thing!"

Once everything's been packed away by Harry and Hermione, they opt to stroll along the many corridors of Hogwarts where various students wander around. Eventually, the pair traverse a brightly lit corridor on the first floor before Hermione sighs. "Dinner can't come soon enough already; all this studying's made me famished indeed."

"To the Great Hall it is," declares Harry, picking up speed while hurrying down the bright corridor. They soon step out through a door taking them to the Grand Staircase. Looking up, Harry stops to view the countless moving staircases before glancing behind him. "You wanna drop that bag off in your common room?"

"Alright then, and you're welcome to tag along, Mister Slytherin 'King'," replies Hermione.

"Are you nuts? The Fat Lady will go hysterical seeing a Slytherin trying to enter. Not to mention the reception I'll get from your Housemates."

"I suppose it's not fair that you'll never be able to see the Gryffindor common room. It's quite sunny and cosy up there. Don't get me wrong though, yours is quite nice too."

"Hmph, I'm still not sure if I should forgive you, Ronald, and Malone for impersonating my Housemates last year," replies an unamused Harry. "Just so you know, I had to do quite a bit of explaining to somehow get Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent to forgo revenge."

"Then put on a suit and call yourself my knight in shining armour," says Hermione, hurrying up various staircases en route to the Gryffindor common room. Meanwhile, Harry keeps to a corner until Hermione eventually returns without her bag. "All done, let's get going."

They descend a few steps before reaching the Entrance Hall, and no matter how many years Harry's been here, Hogwarts never ceases to feel like a true home. The glow of many a candle invigorates Harry as he soon stops at the bottom of the marble staircase before turning left to approach the Great Hall.

"Feeling sentimental again? I know that look," says Hermione, seeing him staring wistfully ahead.

"I just love this place, that's all." He extends a hand to Hermione, standing on the bottom steps, which she accepts with a smile.

"Oh look, someone's being a gentleman tonight." Hermione descends the last few steps before turning Harry's palm to face up. Both students now standing metres from the Great Hall as a few others pass by.

"Something wrong?" asks Harry, relishing Hermione's soft strokes along his rough, calloused hand; a comforting sensation indeed.

"You should think about moisturizing, seriously."

Harry reverses the gesture by now turning her smooth palm up and running his fingers along it. "Quidditch, burning an evil possessed Professor, and fighting a Basilisk can really wreck a boy's hands."

"Fair points, I suppose," says Hermione, shuddering as Harry draws circles on her palm. She then gently squeezes his hand before Harry swiftly looks over her shoulder.

"Sir," he greets, causing Hermione to look behind and spot Snape striding past them. The Potions Master remains oddly silent while looking from Harry to Hermione to their hand-holding.

"Um, hello, Professor Snape," greets a rather nervous Hermione. To both students' surprise, however, Snape merely walks into the Great Hall without so much as a word of acknowledgement.

"What do you suppose that was about? Professor Snape never misses an opportunity to pass comments," states a confused Harry.

Hermione decides upon buttoning his opened robes before shrugging. "You reckon he dislikes you hanging out with me? After all, Slytherin folks are known to revere blood status and despise Gryffindor at times."

"Professor Snape hardly bothers with blood talk at all, so I really don't know why he reacts this way to us. Full of crap, as always."

"Well, rather silence than unwanted attention I suppose." Hermione releases Harry's hand as they enter the packed Great Hall.

Running lengthwise from the double doors are many house tables. From their view upon entering, Harry and Hermione spot the Slytherin table being nearest to their left, and Ravenclaw closest to their right. Hufflepuff sits between the Slytherin and staff tables while Gryffindor lies between the Ravenclaw and staff tables. A wide length of walkway offers passage from the entrance right up to the staff table.

While standing beside Hermione, Harry knows he is being watched by the occasional student or staff. In fact, he briefly spots Snape staring at them before looking away. Soon thereafter, Theodore Nott jeers at Harry from his spot at the Slytherin table nearby.

"Excuse me while I deal with an idiot." Harry now strides towards Nott. "What's your problem, man?"

Seated around Nott are Zabini to his right, some fourth years on his left, and Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle facing him from their seats. All appear to be watching the conversation unfold as Nott speaks. "Why are you hanging out with that thing? Not only is its hair all bushy, and front teeth too big, but it's a Mudblood from Gryffindor."

If they weren't in the Great Hall now, then Harry might've throttled Nott good. But he knows the dynamics of his House and how to win such arguments, even against seemingly popular opinion. "Because I'm Harry Potter and can do whatever the hell I want, understand?"

Snorts of laughter, whistles, and "He's got a point," echo across the nearby group of students. A livid—and embarrassed—Nott now shoves his plate of dinner aside before standing up, face-to-face with Harry Potter. From the corner of his eye, Harry spots his best friends (fondly referred as his girls) seated at their distant end of the Slytherin table. The group of Daphne, Tracey, Millicent, Sally-Anne, and Pansy now openly groan at such an obvious confrontation taking place yet again.

"You're disgracing yourself, Potter. How can you call yourself a Slytherin but then run along with filthy Granger?" asks Nott coldly.

"Because I can, simple as that," says Harry, now opening his arms. "Are you famous?"

Nott briefly glances at the students seated around him before replying, "My blood is pure, and I'm from the Sacred Twenty-Eight. What about you, Potter?"

"Oh, not this again. Look, I do hold great respect for the Sacred Twenty-Eight," says Harry, darting his eyes to see who's observing. "But have you survived a direct Killing Curse as a baby and discovered that you speak Parseltongue?"

Nott responds, though growing less confident by the second. "Hmph, sheer luck and nobody cares."

"My reputation begs to differ. Also, bear in mind that I'm able to speak with our House animal—a snake—in the great language of our Founder," says Harry, sensing imminent victory. "Best of all, everyone expected me to be a Gryffindor but, no, I've come to grace  _this_  House, Nott." He now looks around and sees various looks of approval from the nearby observing Slytherins.

"You think you're so special, stupid Half-Bloo–"

"Ugh, Nott, just sit down as your debate's already over," states an older student whom Harry is unfamiliar with. It amuses the latter to see how Theodore's carefully selected pro-Pureblood rants have fallen short before him today.

Harry now saunters down the table towards his clearly curious girls before seeing an opportunity arise. Family ties are strongly upheld in the Wizarding World, and Slytherins are no different, although with some exceptions. Therefore, Harry wonders if any of the older students have younger siblings like Daphne and Astoria are to each other. He reckons they might and decides to politely take a seat between two first-years.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asks, stifling his laughter at the dozen flabbergasted first-years around him. They cease all actions of eating and speaking to gawk at him while he simply smiles. "So, how's everything going for you little ones?"

No response, simply stares and looks of disbelief towards each other. Not only has an older student casually sat among them, but a very famous one indeed.

"Don't be shy; I'm not that much older than you lot," says Harry, now reaching for a bowl of potato salad. "Anybody want seconds? I can understand if you're full but–"

Never before has he seen a dozen kids so swiftly grab their plates—regardless of their contents—and flock around him. They stand with plates held out, and Harry decides upon dishing bits of salad into each one. While catering for the first-year Astoria, Harry takes a moment to glance left down the table and wink at a baffled Daphne.

"Harry Potter dished my food, I'm so telling mom and dad about this!"

"He's sitting next to me."

"I heard he's Hogwarts' best Seeker ever."

Harry grabs an empty plate before catering for himself, grinning at the comments echoing throughout Slytherin's youngest. If he hadn't shut down Theodore Nott enough, then this should seal the deal. Although using this opportunity to prove a point, Harry also feels a sense of warmth in knowing that he's definitely made these kids' day.

"Um, Mr. Harry Potter sir, I heard you grew up with Muggles, is that true?" asks a girl seated before him.

He nods before replying, "Just call me 'Harry'," then turns to acknowledge the group, "I'd rather not speak about it. Let's discuss your best and worst classes."

"I hate Transfiguration; McGonagall is so mean," complains one first-year, earning nods of approval from his classmates seated nearby.

"But Potions and Flying are the best!" adds another first-year girl.

Harry tries getting some names down but finds himself soon forgetting, for which he is forgiven. The next few minutes are spent with the famous third-year dining and making sure the entire group is well settled into Hogwarts.

With his plate emptied, belly full, and kindness shown towards the newest members of his House, Harry sits up straight. He spots many a first-year glancing curiously over his shoulder until familiar arms wrap around him from behind. Glancing left, Harry spots Pansy leaning over while standing beside him. Her pretty—though often mocked—face now centimetres from his.

"Hey, when you're done playing papa bear to these firsties, then I'd like to hear what that Nott argument was about," she says, smiling as a first-year decides to speak.

"Are you his girlfriend?"

Harry's pulse hastens at the sudden question. Surely Pansy wouldn't respond in her usual way with them?

"Of course, he's my Harry." She presses her cheek against his, while wickedly smiling. Gasps, wide-eyes, and giggles erupt throughout the dozen youngsters seated nearby. A startled Harry now looks up at a smirking Pansy who whispers in his ear, "That's what you get for choosing these babies over me. Enjoy the gossiping; I sure will."

She ruffles his hair before returning to her seat farther down the table. The irony of the situation hits as Pansy's so expertly worked her charm. This leaves a red-faced Harry seated between a giggling bunch of youngsters for the rest of his evening.

 


	5. An Evening and a Letter

Cold air flows through the Hogwarts Dungeons; nothing unusual after an evening of dinner. By late evening, crowds of Slytherins have already flocked towards their common room entrance (which is concealed along a damp brick wall). Silhouettes of black and green robes now steadily file into the door revealed by stating the current password. Harry, however, walks behind the group while preferring that others go ahead.

Skipping along the corridor beside Harry is a group of first and second-years. Their keen interest in his supposed 'love life' now fairly awkward indeed.

"So tell us, do you two sneak out at night and stuff?" asks Astoria Greengrass, glancing up at a visibly embarrassed Harry.

"Uh, not really."

"What? That's so dull, you need to take her out for a midnight kiss," states a second-year girl. Her statement brings about echoes of agreement from the group as they near the brick wall ahead.

"Does anyone remember the password? That's rule number one here, and never write them down," says Harry, hurrying the youngsters to stand at their common room entrance.

"I think we all know the current password, and it's really stupid. Who thought this one was good enough?" asks a first-year boy.

"Beats me," replies Harry.

"You speak, we wanna hear you say it," orders a first-year girl, standing beside her twin who agrees. Harry recalls the seemingly inseparable pair introducing themselves as Flora and Hestia Carrow.

"Fine, so long as you kids don't laugh." He steps forward, now facing the wall as he speaks, "'Bibble Bobble Dobble'. Who the hell thought this one up?" Snorts of laughter can be heard as Harry leads the group into the common room. "Alright, yeah, very funny. Can't wait for the next password change..."

A familiar face now makes his way towards the entrance, shoving youngsters aside as he walks. "Move, kids; injured wizard coming through."

"No need to be so rude to the little ones," says Harry, as Draco Malfoy barges through the group.

"By the way, Parkinson got one of her cousin's letters again," says Draco, "She said you should come and 'bask in the moment'." He now smugly enters the common room, ensuring his 'injured' arm gathers as much attention as possible.

Rough stone walls adorn the sizable room with chained greenish lamps hanging from its ceiling. The lavish fireplace simmers with flames providing both heat and a relaxing glow of orange. Being underground allows the windows to offer a surreal view into the Black Lake, its giant squid occasionally passing by.

Harry navigates around various high-backed chairs where students sit around their tables. Some appear to be studying, others finishing assignments or writing letters, and a few playing Wizard's Chess. He stops to briefly watch two fifth-years heavily competing at their table, unfazed by the growing number of youngsters surrounding them.

"Watch and learn, kids; this is what happens when your opponent relies too heavily on their queen," says the female fifth-year named Yasmin Shafiq, forcing her opponent to shield their king with his queen.

"Darn, didn't see that one coming," admits the male fifth-year, Adrian Pucey, as his most valuable piece goes down. Though upset over his loss, Pucey takes it in stride before the group of applauding first and second-years. With the match moments from a checkmate, Harry decides to approach the table as well. Various youngsters now politely stepping aside for him.

"Ah, Harry Potter, our wannabe Prefect," says Yasmin, flashing her own newly-received badge. "Have you enjoyed leading the first-years around?"

Harry scratches the back of his hair and smiles. "Yeah, but I guess they don't need much guidance past their second week."

"You, uh, have any luck with that favour I asked you the other day?" asks an optimistic Yasmin.

Harry sighs, feeling rather disappointed in himself. "Unfortunately not. I tried my best but Flint doesn't want any girls on the team."

"Darn sexist, and to think some of my classmates still adore him, hmph," responds Yasmin. "Well, thanks for trying. We can only hope he passes this year. So, if neither you nor Adrian could convince the stubborn Captain, then I guess I'll never get a spot on our team."

Harry stands beside the girl and grins, "If that happens, then maybe I can become Captain next year. You'll be the first Chaser on my team, Yasmin."

"Ha, nice try Mister; that flattery might work on your third-year girls but not me. Besides, I'm pretty sure Montague is next in line for Skipper." Yasmin now appears to be using her knights to cut off her opposing king's escape.

"That's pretty much confirmed," says Pucey, struggling to keep up with his opponent's moves.

"Harry, are you gonna be Quidditch captain next year?" asks one of the surrounding second-year girls.

"Montague knows what he's doing but, hey, you never know. If Oliver Wood made Captain in his 4th year then so can I," says a hopeful Harry. "Besides, what's the worst that can happen in my fourth-year?" He continues to watch Yasmin's dominant performance on the board until hearing a familiar voice to his right.

"Potter boy! Draco said he passed on my message ages ago," says Pansy.

Mere seconds later sees Harry almost dragged to the far end of the common room before sneakily rounding a corner. Pansy now steering him towards the stone passage linked to the female dormitories. Once inside, she turns left into its third branching passage before being stopped by a startled fourth-year girl.

"Wha– why is there a boy in here?"

"Pretend you didn't see anything, or else," warns Pansy.

To Harry's amazement, the fourth-year simply nods, mumbling something about Pansy's mother before scurrying off. This leaves the pair of third-years to continue down the dimly lit passage until reaching a lavish green door at its end.

"What's that she said about your mum?" asks Harry, causing Pansy to flinch.

"Uh, nothing."

"Don't hide stuff from me," says Harry, now standing at the entrance to Pansy's dorm. "We're no longer first nor second-years."

"Fine, I'll tell you on one condition," says Pansy, biting her lip while turning to glance at a baffled Harry. "Promise me that nothing will change. We'd still be best friends."

Her sudden worried expression brings a sense of regret on Harry's behalf. "Okay, I promise not to hold whatever it is against you."

Sighing, Pansy takes a seat atop a concrete block in a nearby corner. "My mom has a bit of a... reputation for those that know."

"Oh, don't tell me she's, um, been with different men?"

"W-What? No!" gasps Pansy.

"My bad, carry on."

"My mom is— _was_ —a Death Eater," admits Pansy, now hesitant to make eye contact with Harry.

"A what?"

She facepalms while replying, "One of the Dark Lord's many followers; those who fought against the 'good guys' a.k.a. the Aurors back before the big baddie disappeared."

For some odd reason, this revelation does absolutely nothing to dampen Harry's opinion of Pansy. "You said she  _was_  a Death Eater? So, could people just leave Voldemort's service?"

Pansy shakes her head in a vivacious manner, enough that her bangs flick side to side against her cheeks. "Nope, but after little wittle Harry Potter stopped him, many of the Dark Lord's followers were sent to Azkaban. Some—like my mom—managed to keep themselves out. I don't know how and never bothered to ask. All that matters is that she's still home."

Harry feels a pang of guilt at raising this question. For here sits one of his finest friends, and he's made her confess to something remarkably personal.

However, Pansy simply laughs before flashing a smile. "Well, at least we have something in common with our dads eh?"

"I thought you said yours wasn't killed by Voldemort?"

"He's still gone anyway, doesn't matter how he went," admits Pansy, gasping as a sudden yawn escapes her mouth. "Oh gosh, how did I get so tired?"

"It's getting darn late you know. The boys will be wondering where I am."

"Draco knows, so you're covered," states Pansy, leaping off the concrete block and landing with a thud beside Harry. "Besides, you're getting the privilege of entering my room."

She soon opens her dormitory door, and Harry looks around (rather unfazed) to observe the sizable round room. Five poster beds with emerald green curtains are positioned around him, surprisingly similar to his own dormitory. To Harry's immediate left sits Millicent Bulstrode atop her bed, greeting him with a wave while reading a book. Metres away sits an empty bed, presumably Daphne's. Straight across from the door lies Pansy's bed with parchments and books scattered across it. To Harry's front right, Sally-Anne Perks appears to be combing her lengthy brunette hair while seated atop her bed.

"Don't mind them; that's a usual scene this time," says Pansy, directing Harry's attention to his immediate right. The fifth bed sees Tracey Davis seated upright against the wall while reading a book held by Daphne (who's half laying and sitting on Tracey's lap). The latter appears quite relaxed with her blonde hair sprawled out, and Tracey's arms wrapped around her.

Looking ahead, Harry snorts with a laugh. "I could definitely tell that that's your bed; same mess of books and stuff like mine."

"Well then, by all means you should know how to clean 'em up," says Pansy, now ushering Harry towards her bed.

"Me and my big mouth," he mutters, while being made to neaten and pack away Pansy's books. Moments later, she snaps her fingers while speaking.

"Sally-Anne asks if you could rub her neck."

With Pansy's bed finally cleared, Harry grins. "House Elf at your service, madams, I guess."

"You need a sock to be free, Harry Elf?" asks Sally-Anne, her brown eyes twinkling with laughter as giggles echo throughout the room.

"How's Malfoy handling that whole elf scenario anyway, Harry?" asks Daphne, shutting her book and placing it beside her while laying back.

"Pretty well, I guess. His father caused the crap around here anyway. So, none of them can get upset if I took their elf."

Millicent scoffs. "Where's that thing now?"

"Back at the Malfoys' home, and happier now that he's working for me."

"Well, someone's got a brain," says Pansy proudly. "I bet they at least appreciate the gesture of having their elf back, even if they can't touch him now."

Harry shrugs. "Yeah, Malfoy said his father eventually managed to get over it." He now gently places his hands on Sally-Anne's tense neck muscles to massage them."Over two years here, and I still haven't visited anyone. But maybe, someday, I can eventually get to see your big, fancy manors."

"Oh, very funny. Anybody here live in a big posh manor like the Malfoys?" asks Pansy, to which none of the girls raise their hands.

"Whew, Quidditch boy, you keep those hands working," coos Sally-Anne. "You should give this a try, Pansy."

"Noted."

"Hey, let's hear what your cousin has to say. Open that letter!" orders Tracey, her bespectacled eyes glancing at Pansy. The latter now yanks Harry away from Sally-Anne before sitting him down on her bed. Pansy soon reaches into the bag laying beside her bed and withdraws an elegant blue envelope.

"They're always blue," admits Harry, while Pansy gently opens her eagerly anticipated envelope. Clearing her throat, she reads:

_"To my pretty little cousin, Pansy Parkinson._

_You simply must tell me more about this whole Sirius Black scandal, because information is scarce in my country. He's some guy that killed a few Muggles way back, right?_

_I hear you've got Dementors patrolling near your school, that's...weird but cool too! Nothing exciting, beyond school stuff, really happening around here. Well, we're busy decorating our château for another day of festivities._

_Do yourself a favour and start focusing hard on Transfiguration now already. Because at my level this subject is KILLER! Darn classmates are too stuck up to help, except the guys, but they're just trying to get into my knickers so no thanks._

_Thankfully, there's at least one helpful girl in my class, and bonus points for her diverting the guys' attention from me!_   _She's a real sweetie, although easily seen as arrogant at times._

_I'd like to hear how things are going in your House. Still in charge around there?_

_Keep well, Pansy, I know you're a clever little girl with some good friends (and a famous one!)_

_PS: I heard a rumour going across our staff about something happening next year. I can't quite say (top-level stuff that most of my schoolmates aren't even aware of yet), but let's just agree that you folks are in for a real treat._   _Maybe you all will get to see us, and me, shaking it good in our school's pretty little dance some day._

_Love you always, little cuz._

_Alyssa Kalina Parkinson_

_-6th Year, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic."_

Pansy sits practically beaming with joy after reading her letter, and Harry whistles before responding. "Well, that was quite a mouthful indeed."

"I wonder what Alyssa meant by next year? I'm so excited! Can't wait, can't wait!"

Harry laughs as Pansy seemingly bounces with joy on her bed. "Hey, sit still already! Must be all those sweets again."

"Shut up," she replies casually, now glancing at her watch. "Alright, Mister, I think it's time you hurried along back to your boys."

"Don't chase him away just yet," says Sally-Anne, now relaxing with her legs outstretched.

"Pansy's right; besides, I still need to get cleaned up for the night," says Harry, who's soon greeted by his girls. The former's discreet visit now ends upon being snuck out into the passages by Pansy, walking ahead while signalling for Harry to follow. Moments later, he slips out of the girls' side and walks a few metres across the common room to enter the boys' dormitory. Its passages seemingly identical to the girls' layout.

After heading down the main passage and turning right, Harry hurries along to a lavish green door at its end. He turns its silver handle before slipping into his room which is shared by five others. A familiar sight of six poster beds in a round room lies ahead; Harry's one being straight from the door while Draco and Nott remain his closest neighbours.

"So, how'd it go with the ladies?" asks Draco, readying himself for a night's rest.

"Fun as usual."

"Well, spare me the details, Potter; I know you read a letter or whatever. You up for some Exploding Snap tomorrow morning?"

"Heck yeah! I do still suck at that game though, and my bloody fingers don't appreciate it," responds Harry, now gathering his sleepwear.

"You'll get used to it, but it takes more than two years to grow out of that Muggle life you had." Draco gives an exaggerated shudder at the thought of living like that.

"I suppose," says Harry, now heading for the large bathroom adjacent to his dormitory room to freshen up for the night.


	6. Destined Rivals

_Hogwarts Broomshed, October 8th, 1993_.

Temperatures continue to drop as Autumn nears Winter by the day, and many students seek the warmth of their castle by hanging out in its cosy interior. But for Harry, dropped temperatures mean fewer witnesses outside which presents time for new ideas. He now stands, geared up in Quidditch robes, with arms folded in the shed's corner overlooking the doorway. Whoever enters would be unable to see him standing so silently, waiting.

Soon, Harry hears footsteps approaching from outside, trudging along wet grass. His eyes keenly observe the ponytailed girl now entering the broomshed as its door flies open, brining a chilly wind throughout the cosy room. Scarlet robes adorn this girl in a surprisingly fitting manner. Yet, through all her bending over and basic stretches, she fails to spot the observant, smirking Harry.

"Coming to fetch a broom or scribble blood messages along a wall again, girl?"

She spins around to face Harry, her expression one of utter surprise. "H-How long have you been standing there?"

"Hey, respect your elders and greet them, little Weasley." Harry flashes a wink, inwardly laughing from the embarrassed look on young Ginny's face.

"Don't tell me what to do, Harry Potter."

"Oh, got some fire in you eh? I like that; wild like your flaming red hair."

"Hmph, so you slither in here like a typical Slytherin. For what? To spy on a second-year like me?" asks Ginny, walking to sit upon a makeshift bench in the room. She leans back to rest against its wooden wall while keeping her eyes locked onto Harry.

"Okay, I think I get it: shy little Ginny Weasley has disappeared and is now the big bad Seeker, right?"

Ginny sits upright with arms folded. "I am so gonna take you down, Harry."

"Oh sure, like you 'took down' that last Slytherin?"

"Who?"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"Oh, him," mutters Ginny, her air of bravado swiftly faltering. "I'd rather not talk about it, especially considering how similar you are to him."

Eager to change this topic, Harry requests that Ginny shut her eyes (which she obliges). Then, seconds later, he speaks again. "Open your eyes and look, Ginevra, because I've got something  _good_  for you."

She peeps open her eyes anxiously, then gawks in utter disbelief at Harry standing with his Nimbus 2000 in hand.

"You can have it; at least now that pretty red hair gets to experience some real speed." Harry smiles warmly, appreciating Ginny's expression which mirrors that of when he first received this broom from his Head of House.

"Is this a joke? Are you trying to be sillier than Fred and George?"

Feeling no reason to hesitate, Harry walks up to the younger girl and places his hands on her shoulders. "If anyone asks, just say I sold it to you at a really cheap discount."

"W-Who's gonna believe that? My family is quite poor."

"Then send the disbelievers my way, I'll convince them otherwise." Silence fills the room for a few minutes before Ginny speaks, on the verge of tears before suddenly smiling mischievously.

"Mwahaha! You just signed your own death warrant, Slytherin."

"Heh, I wouldn't have it any other way, Gryffindor. You up for some basic exercises? Nothing special though."

"Sure thing, Harry. Let's see how good you really are up close in the air."

"Better than you'd think. Try not to stare at my arse for too long while lagging behind me," says Harry, rushing onto the deserted Quidditch pitch. Seizing an opportunity for another joke, Harry turns to glance at Ginny. Both Seekers now standing beside each other on the chilly pitch. "Still think I'm like Tom?"

"Heck yes," replies Ginny, removing her hair tie to have her red hair blowing freely in the breeze.

"Nope, not gonna distract me from training. But damn is it cold." Harry starts warming up along one side of the pitch and laughs at Ginny's eagerness to outmanoeuvre him.

"Whoops, you're slow as a snail," she says, going all out to outpace her rival Seeker. "What's wrong, Boy-Who-Lived? Can't keep up with a little second-year?"

He laughs while replying, "Save that fire for our match next month. Don't overdo yourself, little wittle Gryffindor."

" _Little wittle?_ Okay, so it's like that then." Ginny races ahead by following through with a bit of a sprint. "You're lagging behind, Tom!"

"Bloody little hamster, argh," mutters Harry. Still, he tries to remain calm while casually finishing his slow jog. Looking up, he spots Ginny's scarlet robes across the field as she zips about— like a hamster— before jogging towards him. Her hair blowing about while she sprints to stop metres before a smirking Harry. "I do wonder how you must be sweating after going all out like that? Hehehe."

Ginny gasps, totally caught off guard by the clearly obscene tones behind the remark. "What a pervert."

"Says the girl who pretends not to like it, even though she's got a crush on me."

"I...do not!" says Ginny, her blushing cheeks betraying her denial.

"Shall we mount our brooms? I bet you're dying to mount mine." Harry sniggers upon seeing the hilariously reddened cheeks of his teased rival. "I meant the Nimbus, silly." Both Seekers jog to retrieve their brooms laying on the grass beside the pitch. Once Ginny readies her broom, so does Harry. "I'd suggest tying up that pretty hair before it gets uncomfortable soaring through the air."

"Oh, don't mind the little wittle second-year. I'll just spy on your broom skills from behind," says Ginny quite sternly.

"If I were in Gryffindor, maybe I'd show you my  _broom skills from behind_."

Ginny covers her ears in protest at, quite possibly, today's most vulgar remark. She speeds ahead, glaring at Harry while overtaking him. Green and scarlet robes almost dance through the air as both Seekers dazzle each other with graceful moves, keeping no more than a few metres between them. Both rivals initially hold back while preferring to toy with each other.

"Broom tag time!" declares Harry loudly, now flying sideways right up to his startled rival. Reaching out, he pats the girl on her back and mutters in her ear, "Come and get me, cutie pie."

"Argh, come here!" Ginny banks left to pursue her target in green robes. To Harry's surprise, she appears to be gaining control of the Nimbus 2000—a massive step up from whatever she had before— remarkably quick. Seconds later sees red hair approaching in the corner of Harry's eye,  soon slapping a hand on his back. "You're it."

Harry begins to realize the extent of Ginny's talent, for she appears to be matching his movements rather quickly. Flying past a near-empty Quidditch stand, he looks right to see the Gryffindor Seeker sticking her tongue out at him. "Not bad, but then again you at least had the opportunity of growing up with a magical family. That's literally a flying head start!" Harry cuts in to pass Ginny, failing to notice the guilty look of sympathy on her face at his remark. Still, she takes the pat on her back before giving chase to her rival speeding ahead. They continue pursuing each other while Harry decides to show some of his apparent skill; he turns left before pitching the 2001's handle upwards.

As Ginny closes in, she widens her eyes at Harry executing a big vertical roll over her, and he's unfazed by momentarily being upside down. Ginny then slows down to watch him weave through the goal posts. Normally, any rival Seeker would feel anger towards such showboating, but Ginny smiles. Once Harry gestures for her to follow, she executes a similar set of skills.

The longer she flies beside Harry, the more Ginny realizes that this afternoon's weather feels surprisingly less cold for her. They soar across the field making use of roll, pitch and yaw to pursue each other on their racing brooms. Mid-way through the session, Ginny leads by 10 tags to Harry's 6.

"Am I too much for you?" she asks, still feeling her sense of warmth towards Slytherin's Seeker.

"Like a hamster on a broomstick, Oh, I'm so scared of the mighty Ginny."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire," sings Ginny, laughing in delight as Harry charges forward and misses her. "Haha, you missed me."

They resume their game of tag; both rivals once again showing off in the air. Moments later, Harry stops mid-way through showing off one impressive piece of flying.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" asks Ginny, worrying upon seeing Harry's startled expression. He immediately calls her over with a gesture of his index finger, and she obliges. From the look on Harry's face, Ginny finds herself hovering right up beside him. "Speak to me."

He leans to whisper in her ear, hardly noticing Ginny's shiver at this. "What kinds of pets are allowed at school?"

"Cats, toads, owls, and a few other little ones. Why?"

"So, tell me why there's a large black dog watching us?"—Harry points to the stands before gasping—"Oh darn, the Grim."

"The what?"

"Never mind, some Divination omen I got in class. Apparently it means I'm gonna be dying," he mutters.

Ginny gasps in horror. "No bloody way you are! Where's this dog?"—she indeed spots the animal pointed out by Harry—"I'll take care of it."

Harry watches as his fiery friend takes off towards the stands where the animal has already begun fleeing. "Wait!" he yells, causing Ginny to halt before spinning around to face him.

"What?"

"I've seen that thing before, and it wasn't just an omen," says Harry.

"Really now?"

"Yeah, sometime over the summer where it physically attacked a Muggle boy. Nobody got hurt though but... I'd rather not take  any chances"—Harry hovers towards Ginny before patting her on the shoulder—"Wouldn't wanna watch my red-haired rival get hurt now, eh?"

Ginny scoffs. "You really seem to speak a lot about my hair, you know?"

"I just think it goes well with those Quidditch robes."

"Oh"—she blushes—"Well, I think yours goes well with your eyes, and the broom with your hair."

"Forget the dog and let's call it a day," says Harry, hovering downward. Ginny follows suit until both Seekers land and dismount upon the grass. "How about we head inside, and I'll show you a little something."

"Wha-?"

"Nothing dirty," laughs Harry, eventually directing the second-year into the shed to sit with her back facing him. "I know that smell, must be one of the school's shampoos."

"Right you are." Ginny's eyes widen in response to sheer relaxation as a comb gently brushes from her hairline backwards. An entire day's stress now simply fades for the youngster.

"You still awake?" asks Harry, combing through volumes of sleek red hair.

"I'm a tough girl, so don't ruin my reputation."

Harry soon releases the comb from Ginny's hair once he's finished his little show of affection.

"That was absolutely brilliant, Harry! I would pay you to do that, if I wasn't so poor."

"If it really bothers you so much, how about I help you out? How's...50 Galleons sound?" offers Harry.

Ginny nearly falls off the bench from shock, "Are you nuts?"

"Meh, I've got a small fortune in the bank"—Harry now shrugs—"Just don't tell people, although I think it's almost public knowledge by now."

"But that's the thing, Harry. People will find out about this donation. No way to hide buying new books and luxuries, especially for a Weasley."

"Yeah, as if you 'buying' my old Nimbus isn't gonna attract enough attention already," says Harry.

"You don't have to look down on me with charity."

"Would a surprise Christmas gift suffice?"

Ginny facepalms. "Now it's no longer a surprise, silly."

"Oh, yeah." Harry laughs. "Darn, that was a stupid question." The pair of Seekers wordlessly return their brooms to opposite sections of the shed. As Harry calmly stores his Nimbus 2001, Ginny proudly stands her 2000 upright, admiring both the gift and its former owner.

"Maybe we'll bump into each other again? If not, then I'll see you on matchday," says Ginny, shaking Harry's hand before he responds with a dramatic bow.

"See you too, my lady."

They soon exit the broomshed and split up to head to their respective locker rooms. Harry looks over his shoulder and decides to forgo an obscene joke about brushing Ginny's hair in the shower, for she's still merely a second-year. Moments later, after hitting the showers and changing back into their school robes, both Seekers return to the warm interior of the castle.


	7. Duelling in Defence

_Third Floor, Serpentine Corridor, Hogwarts. October 13th, 1993._

"Looks like Professor Lupin really screwed with today's schedule by getting us and Gryffindor together for one lesson," says Harry. With a belly full of lunch, and having endured enough tears from Trelawney earlier today, he looks forward to a supposedly entertaining class.

"Hope it's a practical lesson because I feel like Jinxing someone," says Pansy, essentially strutting beside him in the corridor as they approach the entrance to Classroom 3C where Lupin awaits.

"Have I told you about Tre-loony's weird prediction she gave me this morning?" asks Pansy.

"Nope, do tell us," says Harry.

"Alrighty, she said some mumbo jumbo about my mom and I."

"Go on," replies a rather eager Harry.

"Honestly, I can hardly remember the rubbish she spoke."

"C'mon, try to remember," urges Harry, now seeing the classroom door ahead to their left.

"Some crap about my mom and a crazy witch."

"That's the darn silliest thing I've ever heard, and here I thought my Grim Death prediction was a bunch of rubbish," says Harry, shaking his head at Pansy.

"What a bunch of cock," says Daphne, walking past Harry in fits of giggles.

"C-Cock?" Harry's eyes now widen in surprise, until an elbow hits him in the side.

"She means 'nonsense', not what you might be thinking—ugh," mutters Pansy. Her cheeks now flushed as she sighs in disbelief.

Walking ahead of Harry and his girls are Draco and the boys; the entire group totalling 11 third-years.

Sally-Anne eventually catches up to them and now strolls casually beside Harry, soon placing an arm around him. "Figures our 'brave' classmates would race to class after lunch. Seems all 10 Gryffindors are early today."

"Well, they did get a free period first thing today, since that was supposed to be their Defence slot," notes Harry, having already seen Neville's timetable upon snatching it. The near-dozen Slytherins soon gather outside Classroom 3C in the corridor, hearing the cheerful buzz coming from within.

"Pfft, sounds like they're having fun with our 'esteemed' Professor," sneers Draco, while turning around to acknowledge Harry and the girls behind him.

"Did any of you hear that rubbish Pansy just spoke earlier?" asks Harry.

"No, not that we care anyway." Draco shoves the door open as his 'injured' arm's apparently healed once more. Crabbe, Goyle, Nott and Zabini file in behind him.

"Come inside and grab your seats kids," says Lupin's cheerful voice from within. Something about this Professor seems to put Harry in good spirits, which has not gone unnoticed by his girls.

"Ugh, Lupin has such rubbish robes," scoffs Pansy while speaking with Tracey and Millicent. "But I suppose Harry likes him so...whatever."

"Hey, he seems alright for some reason. Can't be any worse than"—Harry shudders—"Lockhart."

Tracey now walks up to him and scoffs. "You actually saved that wanker's life by sending him to the madhouse."

"Really?"

Pansy chimes in, "When my mom found out we wasted Galleons on his works..."

Harry stops before the doorway then turns to look at Pansy to his left. "What would she have done to him?"

"Do you really want me to say it?" asks Pansy.

"No! We don't like those words at all," says Sally-Anne.

"What words?" asks a confused Harry.

"Probably the worst words in existence today," says Millicent.

"Lemme hear."

"You sure, Harry? Alright, but I'm not saying them," says Daphne.

"Pansy brought up the topic so she can say them. Just don't go advertising it around," says Tracey.

Pansy leans to whisper in Harry's ear.  _"Avada Kedavra."_

"The hell is that? Sounds like a disease," laughs Harry, although secretly well aware of what the Killing Curse happens to entail.

"The Killing Curse." Pansy nervously fiddles with her hands while the group stands at the door. "Apparently, mom used it quite a bit back in the day, although she doesn't remember actually hitting anyone."

"Well, Voldemort hit me with it and all I got was a sexy scar," says Harry, to which the girls giggle upon strolling into class.

The sizable room is adorned by large windows and various decorations including a dragon's skeleton. One row of 6 double desks sits on each side of the room, totalling 12. A projector sits at its rear and a blackboard upfront. Harry spots the Gryffindors having already snatched their seats ahead, leaving Slytherin to claim the back. He walks in and halts upon being greeted.

"Always with the ladies huh Jam— uh, ahem, Harry," greets a grinning Lupin standing before the class. He gives a strangely knowing nod to an otherwise confused Harry. The latter now raises an eyebrow in curiosity as few, if any, actually use his middle name. Before he can respond beyond a simple smile, Harry finds himself pulled by Tracey to an empty desk on his right.

"Hell no," mutters Pansy, yanking Harry to an empty desk on his left. Back and forth he goes between the two Slytherins even as the rest of the class turns around to view the commotion.

With Pansy and Tracey stopping for a brief rest, Harry turns to look apologetically at Lupin. "I'm sorry, Professor, but this happens all the time." He wouldn't blame any teacher for getting annoyed or docking points but, to his surprise, Lupin does neither.

"Trust me, James, I know all too well." Lupin checks his watch and sees that there are still 5 minutes to go until class is scheduled tp start. "If you ladies could please stop fighting over your friend, I'd appreciate it."

They indeed stop, as both Pansy and Tracey suddenly smile. "I forgot about your middle name, hehe I think we should call him that, sounds cute, eh Tracey?"

"Yeah, oh James, come sit next to me," says Tracey, curling her finger to call over an embarrassed Harry.

"No, James is mine!" exclaims Pansy, their tug-of-war soon interrupted by a half-amused, half-concerned Lupin.

"I insist that you all not use Harry's middle name," says Lupin, causing a fair bit of confusion around the class. He now walks down the room to approach Harry and his group of girls sitting at the back. Lowering his voice, he mutters, "Details aside, your Head of House wouldn't like that."

"Why?" asks both Harry and Pansy, once finally seated together. Meanwhile, Tracey cosies herself beside a beaming Daphne in the desk before them. Across the room on their right sits Millicent and Sally-Anne attempting to eavesdrop.

"Perhaps we can speak in private some day?" asks Lupin. "I was hoping to meet up when the Hogsmeade trips start but, I guess you've managed to get your slip signed, Harry. Nice work, by the way."

Harry smiles, and therefore Pansy mirrors him. "Thanks, Professor, I'll see when I can stop by."

"My door's always open to you, when I'm in office that is," says Lupin rather cryptically. As the Professor strides to stand before the class, Harry whispers in Pansy's ear.

"You hear? Drop the  _James_  thing."

"I wonder why, though? And what's Professor Snape have to do with this?" asks Pansy.

"Beats me, but Lupin seems concerned enough, so leave it."

"Okay."

"Surprisingly obedient," says Harry, now glancing quizzically at Pansy seated right beside him.

"I'm in a good mood now, don't ruin it"—She growls playfully at him—"or else."

"What? You gonna sic your  _mom_  on me?" asks Harry, now checking to see Lupin scribbling on the blackboard upfront.

"At least I have one," responds Pansy in swift defence of her mother. She then gasps, widens her eyes, and swiftly turns to look at Harry. "I'm so sorry."

"That wasn't funny at all, you bloody tosser." Harry glares at Pansy, a rare scene indeed.

"Sorry."

"Hmph."

"Forgive me?" she asks, squeezing his hand beneath their desk while genuinely feeling terrible. Harry remains scowling, until deciding that Pansy's made a genuine slip of the tongue. To be fair, he had made fun of her mother first.

"Fine. Let bygones—"

"—be bygones," adds Pansy, breathing a sigh of relief.

Spotting the pair of whispering Slytherins, Lupin pauses, "Ahem, you two paying attention here? Harry?"

He seizes the opportunity for an unnecessarily hostile joke and stands up. "Yes, Professor! Red Caps are vicious creatures living in areas where human blood has been shed—"

"Nice, glad to see you two  _are_  paying attention at the back."

"—and they look like Ronald Weasley."

Roars of laughter, and fists pounding on desks, echo across the near-dozen Slytherins. Draco, in particular, points at a disappointed Ron, while cackling loudly with Crabbe and Goyle.

Stifling his amusement at the joke, Lupin puts on an air of seriousness, "I'm afraid I'll have to take 3 points from Slytherin for such an insult, Harry."

Pansy now leans to whisper in his ear, "Totally worth it for the joke." She remains giggling as Lupin politely manages to settle the uproar between these two Houses.

"Professor, surely Potter deserves more than that?" asks Lavender Brown, in defence of a fuming Ron seated behind her.

Pansy once again whispers to Harry, "Can that bitch just shut up already? Let the class go on, so what? Hope she dies one day."

"W-Whoa," says Harry, glancing at the giggling girl beside him.

"It wasn't a very pleasant joke, Professor," says Parvati Patil, seated beside Brown. Eloise Midgen also nods in agreement, before the three girls turn to face Hermione's desk. "What? Nothing? You two like Potter?"

Hermione shrugs and turns to see Fay rolling her eyes before sighing. "Just let Professor Lupin continue the lesson please." Both Gryffindors appear to be in agreement against their roommates' relentless defence of Ron. They receive scornful looks from the trio of girls before Lupin indeed resumes his class.

"Girls, that's enough bickering. Now then, Red Caps! Gotta watch out for them as we've just discussed. They ambush the unwary—and lost—from their hideouts in old battlefields." He now strolls down the aisle between the desks while speaking, "Fortunately, they're not much trouble for even first-year offensive spells."

Harry raises his hand, deliberately doing so just as Hermione does the same, though she's behind Lupin's back. "So, Muggles don't stand a chance, sir?"

"Usually, no; some go wandering around old places, unaware of the creatures of the magical world. Chances are high that they'll die in a surprise encounter with Red Caps," explains Lupin, soon turning upon being told of Hermione's raised hand.

As Lupin answers Hermione's question regarding early detection, Pansy scoffs before whispering to Harry. "All that weapons tech and we're still better than them."

"And what do you know about Muggle weapons?" whispers Harry in response, his expression softening as Pansy smiles guiltily.

"Quite a bit, thanks to mommy dearest. She said Muggles use things called guns, missiles, tanks, flak-jackets, bazookas, artillery, fighter jets, submarines, and more."

Harry's jaw drops upon gawking at her, too surprised to react as Pansy's warm hand shuts his mouth.

"Gotta know your enemy. Mom also said it's quite easy to defend against that if wankers decide to try Muggle nonsense against us. She said spells outclass those weapons, even machine gun stuff which can easily be blocked, mm-hmm."

Harry darts his eyes over to see Lupin having a calm discussion with some Gryffindors upfront. "You ever been in the Muggle world then? Surely your mom— considering what she did—wouldn't allow it?"

Pansy snorts before whispering in response, "Oh I've been around a bit, and mom doesn't mind. So long as I don't mingle too much with Muggles themselves."

"How come we've never discussed this before?"

"You never asked, silly. I guess not everything Muggles do are stupid."

Both Slytherins note that Lupin appears to be discussing suitable third-year level spells against Red Caps. They wait for him to turn his back on them before whispering on.

"Don't get me wrong though, I still despise them. But some of their playthings and desserts are okay, I suppose," says Pansy, smiling knowingly towards an unsuspecting Harry.

"Lucky you, getting so much freedom from your mom," he replies, almost wistfully. Their little talk ceases as Lupin now has the class standing up from their seats.

"Alright, I think that's enough talking for one lesson. Uh, how much time do we have left?" he asks, to which Hermione responds.

"Ten minutes, Professor."

"Who wants to practice some duelling, just for the heck of it?"—Lupin smiles upon seeing nearly everyone agreeing—"No serious Cursing, got it?"

Everyone agrees and, before their Professor can even decide, draw their battle lines across the room. Gryffindor lines along the left while Slytherin takes to the right.

"Wait just a sec. We don't have time for a riot here kids"—Lupin shakes his head before continuing—"Elect two members to stand on one end of the classroom, ditto for the opponent." He watches with intrigue as both Houses huddle together to pick their representatives for a mere 10 minute duel. House rivalry indeed.

"Don't worry, guys, Seamus and I are up for this," says Ron, now standing beside Finnigan.

"Come on, snakes, we don't have all day," says Seamus, standing impatiently besides Ron. "Ah, the Dark Lord himself and his esteemed Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Wha—?" asks Lupin, who sighs at Seamus upon seeing Harry and Pansy stepping forward. "Five points from Gryffindor for that awful comment, Finnigan."

"Why is it that she follows you everywhere? Seriously, Potter, there's something wrong with that girl," says Ron. He watches as Harry steps forward but appears confused upon seeing him waving his hand dismissively.

"Ugh, not in the mood for this again. Malfoy, you take him."

"Gladly." Draco eagerly steps forward as Harry turns around to rejoin his group standing along the row of desks.

Ron gawks at Harry. "What? Come on, Potter, I thought you were better than this."

"Whatever," replies Harry, now standing between a giggling Daphne and Sally-Anne, wrapping his arms around their shoulders.

"Well ain't this interesting. Come on, daddy's boy, we'll take 'em." Pansy smirks as Draco stands beside her, both Slytherins begrudgingly bowing as per duelling etiquette. They stand at the far end of the classroom, metres away from a bowing Ron and Finnigan at the front.

"Well, okay"—Lupin casts a few Shield Charms over the spectators—"Knock yourselves out for the next few minutes, kids."

Pansy strikes first by racing forward and flinging a tickling charm,  _"Rictusempra!"_ It sails through the air before narrowly missing a rolling Ron.

_"Flipendo!"_

Draco ducks to evade before countering, " _Immobulus!"_

"Ha! You missed, Malfoy,  _"Locomotor Wibbly!"_ Ron receives cheers of Gryffindor applause as Draco's legs wobble unsteadily beneath him.

Seamus takes the opportunity to link up for a 2-on-1 attack against Pansy. The latter finding herself running across her duelling section dodging Jinxes. "Ugh, get up!  _Finite Incantatem!"_  She fires the spell on Draco, releasing his legs from their Jinx. He gets to his feet and narrowly evades the jets of orange and purple as they sail over him, smashing into the rear wall. Another Knockback Jinx is fired towards Ron, though it misses and merely dissipates against Lupin's Shield Charms.

"You remember this spell from last year, Malfoy? Wasn't pleasant for you eh?  _Slugulus Eructo!_ " says Ron, cussing as it misses.

"Hey! I said no cursing, 2 points from Gryffindor," states Lupin. He continues to watch the four students duelling with no clear sign of a winner after 5 minutes. Soon, Pansy and Draco appear to be getting in sync with their attacks.

_"Expelliarmus!"_

_"Flipendo!"_

_"Glacius!"_

_"Flipendo!"_

Harry, meanwhile, happily observes his buddies from the sidelines. Taking an opportunity once more, he sniffs Daphne's blonde hair, "Care to share that conditioner with me?"

She looks at him with an almost contagious grin. "Go buy your own, cheapskate." Meanwhile, charms, jinxes, and hexes go flying about the room, hitting floor, ceiling, and shield charms alike.

_"Tarantallegra!"_ shrieks Pansy, hitting Seamus on the legs, "Dance, tosser!"

Indeed he does, for the dancing feet spell has him moving about the floor wildly. His legs moving on their own accord, much to the Slytherins' amusement. Ron soon frees Seamus' legs from their torment.

"Not funny, Future Lestrange!" yells Ron, which causes Gryffindor to lose another 5 points. "Sorry, Professor, won't happen again."

_"Incendio!"_ shrieks Pansy, her misplaced spell hitting Lupin's desk which swiftly catches fire as Pansy hops in delight. "Weeeeeeeeeee!"

Fortunately, Lupin swiftly extinguishes the blaze before any significant damage occurs. "Thank you, Miss Parkinson, for the entertainment, I guess." He checks his watch and sees, "Two minutes, make it count." Indeed, Draco and Ron furiously launch all manner of spells at each other with their partners assisting as well.

_"Depulso!"_  yells Pansy.

_"Expelliarmus!"_ counters Seamus, finally disarming Pansy before Draco returns the favour with his own Disarming Charm.

"Just you and I, Weasel."

"Bring it," says Ron, glaring at the smug Draco Malfoy.

_"Flipendo!"_   Draco flings his spell and groans as it's evaded by Ron standing metres ahead.

_"Immobulus!"_ _yells_ Ron, sighing as Lupin signals the end of their little duel. A few more minutes and it seems likely that Ron would likely have won this one indeed.

"Time's up; better get to your next class, kids. And remember, we'll be continuing our discussion on Red Caps next lesson. Cheers!" Lupin releases his Shield Charms as the remaining duellists begrudgingly bow to end their contest.

"Saved by the Professor," sneers Draco, mocking Ron as the former returns to his group of Nott, Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"Talking about yourself?" counters Ron, now walking back to his desk near the front. Meanwhile, Seamus and Pansy pick themselves up before returning to their seats; the latter seemingly less enthused than earlier as she approaches Harry.

"Sorry," sighs Pansy.

"For what?" asks a puzzled Harry, standing up with his dark green bag slung across his shoulders.

"I can't believe Finnigan loser took me down."

Harry waves it off and decides to carry Pansy's pink bag as well. "Nobody's perfect, not even me; I fail tests, you lose duels, Malfoy got scratched by a Hippogriff, Daphne had a bad hair day yesterday, et cetera."

Pansy reverts back to her usual smug expression while speaking. "Yeah, yeah. Where we off to now? Oh, don't remind me..."

"Yep, double Transfiguration," says Harry with a sigh. He waits for the rest to exit, waves at a smiling Lupin, and now exits the class beside Pansy. Groups of third-year Hufflepuffs soon filter into the corridor on their way to Classroom 3C. As usual, Harry ignores them and makes no effort to congratulate them on their new Seeker and Captain, Cedric Diggory.

 


	8. Quidditch Practice

_Quidditch Pitch, Saturday October 16th, 1993, 16h00_.

Harry strolls leisurely towards the entrance to Slytherin's Quidditch locker rooms. Looking up, he spots the cloudy skies gradually dimming as dusk nears. Walking beside him across the empty pitch is Daphne Greengrass, and she's quite snugly warm with her green scarf, woollen gloves, and rather plain casual robes.

"Darn, this is so comfy," says Harry, enjoying the warmth of Daphne's woollen beanie over his head and cold ears. Looking left, he sees her softly laughing as usual.

"I'm gonna need it back before practice though. Such a pity that I can't join you," she says wistfully. Her brown eyes scanning over the entrance tunnel ahead near Slytherin's spectator stands.

"Flint's not gonna be around school forever; one day, I'm gonna be Captain."

"And then what?" asks Daphne, stopping at the entrance tunnel and turning around with her arms folded.

"I certainly know who my Chasers will be," says Harry, "If it's before our sixth-year, then I'll put that Yasmin girl on the team. Next would be you and Pansy, mm-hmm."

Daphne laughs. "Gotta love nepotism! Okay then, but what if you become Captain after Yasmin graduates?"

"Then the spot's open to anyone, although I'd hope for Sally-Anne or Tracey to make it. But Draco's welcome to be our third Chaser too," says Harry.

"I thought he passed for reserve Seeker end of last year?" asks Daphne.

Harry scratches the back of his neck. "Yeah, that's a contentious issue and we had to reach an agreement with Flint."

"Ah, so that's why I saw you with a Quaffle last session," says Daphne, her warm smile lifting a chilly Harry's spirits.

"Well, don't tell anyone yet but I've been trying to adjust to a second position. Figured I'd give Draco a chance at Seeker when we play either Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw." Harry slips off the warm beanie and walks over to Daphne as she speaks:

"Thanks! Oh, look who's on his way for a pep talk."

Harry looks over his shoulder to see Snape striding across the pitch with his usual bitter expression.

"See you later, Daffy." Now, Harry bolts into the tunnel and enters the filled room where the rest of his team awaits. The lack of female players elicits a yet another sigh from Harry as he mutters to himself before taking his seat on a nearby bench. "Our team needs more arse."

Looking around, he spots Draco Malfoy seated beside him while the Beaters, Lucian Bole and Peregrine Derrick, occupy their own bench as do Flint's usual Chasers: Graham Montague and Cassius Warrington. Elsewhere, Miles Bletchley (Slytherin's Keeper) sits in a far right corner beside the team's Nimbus 2001's lined along the wall. Slytherin's Captain, Marcus Flint, now stands in the centre of the room.  

"Look sharp, boys; Professor Snape himself is due to brief us soon." Flint takes his seat and looks at Harry. "By the way, I heard Gryffindor's got both a new Seeker and a new broom. Care to explain the second one?"

"Yeah, I sold my 2000 to Ginny Weasley," says Harry, having expected the general reaction of "WHAT?!" yelled out across the locker room.

"Have you lost your mind?" asks Draco, turning to gape at Harry as the latter shrugs and speaks.

"Well, what else was I supposed to do with it? We already all have 2001's thanks to your father last year."

"You could've burnt it or something, I dunno," says Flint, immediately settling down as Professor Snape enters the room.

"Burn what?" asks Snape, staring down each and every Quidditch player before Flint stands up to speak.

"Sir, Potter's just informed us that he's sold his Nimbus 2000 to Ginny Weasley of Gryffindor. I said he should've rather burnt it then."

Before Harry can offer his explanations, Snape grabs a fistful of Flint's robes (frightening the usually brash Captain) and speaks quite threateningly. "Nobody  _burns_  anything that I've bought, understand?"

"Y-Yes sir!" replies Flint.

"Good, now sit down."

Flint swiftly complies, and Snape now turns to address Harry in the same threatening manner as with Flint.

"Explain fast, Potter."

His heart racing, Harry provides as honest an answer as possible while trying to justify his actions.

"Enough," says Snape, carrying on with his planned talk for today. "Now then, I assume we all know how challenging this season is set to be? Barring Potter's generosity, Gryffindor also appears to have their strongest team in quite some time. In addition, their Captain is overly determined to win some silverware before his graduation this year."

"I'm finishing this year too—" Flint's statement is cut short by a rather strange look by Snape which Harry tries to analyze. It almost appears to be one of pessimism or doubt.

"As I was saying, Gryffindor is our biggest threat. Next, Hufflepuff appears to have gotten a new Captain and Seeker, Cedric Diggory. Ravenclaw has changed their Seeker line-up as well with the addition of Miss Chang." Snape pauses for a bit before continuing, "I'm mentioning Seeker due to the scenario we find ourselves in. I assume Malfoy wishes to play in this position too?"

Draco nods, his expression conveying nothing but a burning desire to prove himself in the air.

"In that case, Flint's idea of shifting Potter to Chaser would be adequate," says Snape, "However, I must insist that Potter remain Seeker against Gryffindor next month. There can be no abrupt tactical changes in our first, and toughest, game of the year. Therefore, I expect this team to pick up where it left off. Last year presented some"—Snape briefly looks at Harry—" _challenges_  which shut down the Cup, but I intend to see us retain it yet again this season."

Snape warns them against failure before turning to exit the locker room and tunnel. Silence remains as Flint creeps to check around the corner. "Okay, it's all clear, boys," he says, signalling a thumbs up to the rest.

"Damn, the Professor never ceases to scare the heck out of me," admits Bole, now practicing some bat swings.

"So, there we have it; Potter's flying against the little Weasel. Alright, men, let's get into gear and head outside. Move your arses!" barks Flint, ordering everyone to switch to their emerald Quidditch uniforms before grabbing their brooms on their way out.

Harry steps out into another cold late afternoon with Draco beside him. They watch as Flint leads the warm ups on the pitch, yelling at them to join. From above, Harry hears the cheers of those who've come to watch their team practice.

"Woo-hooo! Practice those arses, boys!" yells Sally-Anne, now leaning over the railing to gaze down upon the pitch.

"Run, laddies, run!" cheers the seemingly always-cheerful Daphne, waving with both arms in the air.

"Step on it, boys!" cheers Millicent.

"Bend over to stretch; we're watching!" says Tracey.

"SHUT UP!" yells Flint, his voice bellowing up to the stands. Incensed, he gestures middle fingers with both hands before letting their spectators know they're being annoyingly loud. He finally calms down once they lower their voices, unwilling to pass up another opportunity to watch their team train.

"Hey, eyes over here, Potter!" says Draco, already having mounted his broom and signalling that their practice Snitch is airborne.

Harry mounts his Nimbus 2001 and takes to the air in pursuit of the Golden Snitch. Though merely a friendly bit of training, the two Seekers budge against each other while zipping after their elusive target.

"Chasers, form up! Bletchley get over to those hoops!" says Flint, releasing the Bludgers and Quaffle once his Beaters have gotten into position. "Alright, let's start off with our usual formations."

"Ooohs" and "aaahs" softly echo throughout the group of onlookers as Flint practices various formations, Quaffle trick-moves, and interceptions with his fellow Chasers. Elsewhere, Derrick and Bole circle around the group, alternating between defending the Chasers and smashing the Bludgers between themselves. As the minutes pass by, it's Harry who scoops up the Snitch after an impressive piece of flying.

"Not bad; mind if I chase it on my own next?" asks Draco.

"Sure, don't forget to try out some new moves; you can't always rely on simple speed and turns to catch 'em." Harry tosses the Snitch which speeds off with Draco trailing along, while the former now hovers before his girls at the Slytherin stands.

Pansy scoffs. "Oh lookie here, girls; someone's trying to look cute for us while all geared up for Quidditch."

Millicent laughs. "I think he's doing a pretty good job, right, Tracey?"

"Definitely," says Tracey .

"So, what have you ladies been up to—"

"Harry, behind you!" shrieks Pansy, fervently gesturing him to turn around.

 He spins around, as warned, only to instinctively catch the Quaffle; its sheer speed making him roll in the air upon grabbing it.

"LEAVE THE LADIES ALONE AND COME PLAY WITH THE BIG BOYS, POTTER. OR DO YOU NOT WANNA LEARN HOW TO PLAY CHASER?" yells Flint, from a fairly close distance away.

"Sorry, girls, maybe later?" asks Harry, before flying towards the Chasers awaiting him in the air nearby. He soon tosses the Quaffle towards Flint as the Captain speaks.

"So, you obviously know how the Quaffle works, right? Surely you've noticed that it doesn't simply fall to the ground." Flint demonstrates by dropping the scarlet ball which steadily hovers about."Back in the day, the old Chasers complained about having to dive like hell every time the ball was dropped. Surely we can all see that getting piss irritating after awhile, eh?"

Harry nods, already familiar with the basics.

"It's also easier to grip than a simple ball, since it's enchanted pretty good," says Warrington, explaining that one needn't necessarily grip tightly, as Harry notes Muggles tend to do with their bowling balls. "That's why you see us flying about so easily with this thing. Even you should be able to grasp it without any trouble, Potter."

"Before we begin, here's something important: don't Haversack," says Flint strictly.

"That's when the Quaffle is held while going through the goals, right?" asks Harry.

"Yeah and that's a foul. You gotta have no contact with the ball once it enters the hoops." Flint proceeds to explain and demonstrate a few basic Chaser formations.

"It's never easy, especially against Gryffindor. Hate 'em or not, they're bloody strong this year. Bell, Johnson, and Spinnet have got themselves focused for Wood," says Warrington, joining in on the demonstration.

"And you lads better win it for me this year," says Flint, "Right, let's practice some basic moves, Potter. You're familiar with the Porskoff Ploy, I presume?"

"Uh, not actually."

"Warrington, explain," orders Flint, snapping his fingers.

"It's basically where you fly up with the Quaffle to let the opponents give chase. Then you gotta make sure your boys are behind those opponents as you'll be tossing the Quaffle backwards, bypassing the enemy, towards your fellow Chasers," says Warrington.

"Montague, explain the Chelmondiston Charge," says Flint.

"It's one way of going for goal. You just stand on your broom and hurl that Quaffle forward to a hoop. Make sure you don't fall off, not that it would happen unless you're a total idiot."

Flint nods, satisfied at the quick response, "See, Potter? There's quite a bit for you to learn before you're ready to try Chaser. Luckily, our first game is against Gryffindor where Professor Snape wants you as Seeker."

"I'm ready; let's practice some more," says Harry.

"Alright, but you'd better get in some extra Seeker training before the match," replies Warrington.

Despite the hardships of learning a second position, Harry takes off with the trio of Chasers. Once the former seems comfortable enough in this position, Flint steps in as an opposing Chaser. "Always try to picture where I am as that's a key skill for a Chaser. The same goes for predicting where your opponents might be at times," says the Captain.

Harry nods and tosses the Quaffle sideways to Warrington.

"You do realise that it's not gonna be this easy, huh? Flint's only one opponent and we normally go up against three," says Montague, as the trio of Chasers out-pass their intercepting Captain and head for goal.

"Only one Chaser can score, Potter, so you do it," orders Flint, delaying a slight bit as Montague and Warrington allow Harry a shot on goal.

Miles Bletchley rolls his shoulders, warming up at the hoops again. "Come on, Potter, let's see your father's skills!"

Harry charges forward then stops to toss up the Quaffle and punch it towards the central post.

"Nope, too easy," notes Flint, as he spots Bletchley barely moving to catch the Quaffle. "But I suppose we all gotta start somewhere. At least you didn't fall off your broom on your first try like Montague here."

After another half an hour of Chaser practice, Harry's briefly distracted by spotting the large black dog yet again. This time, however, it appears to be curled up rather comfortably in one of the Gryffindor stands. "Grim of Death, my arse," mutters Harry, before simply resuming his training session. "We should really think about getting some reserves, just in case," says Harry to Warrington.

"Haven't seen any promising lads for Chaser yet; most of 'em suck so badly we might as well play a man down," says Flint, ordering his team to carry on with today's practice for another hour at least. Once the evening sets in, Harry gets cleaned up and changed before joining his girls on the slopes as they return to the cosy castle up ahead.


	9. Thoughts and Mischief

_Divination Classroom, October 22nd, 1993._

Ten minutes to go until lunchtime, but it certainly doesn't feel this way for a bored Harry. Seated at his round table beside Pansy, he stares aimlessly into his teacup. The sounds of Trelawney passing by to comment on each table barely register in the students' minds.

"What do you see?" asks a jaded Harry, glancing to the bob-haired girl sitting with head on hands. Pansy sighs—cutely, in Harry's opinion—before yawning in an unladylike manner.

"I dunno, probably a ball or something."

Harry scoots over to kneel beside her and peer into her cup. "Ah, looks like a...  _something!_ " he says, in an exaggerated tone.

"How very funny," says a giggling Pansy, patting him on the head in mock congratulations. She presses his hair firmly down until his fringe hangs over his glasses. Meanwhile, the rest of the Slytherins try their best to decipher their teacups as Trelawney wanders around the room.

Harry hears Draco speaking far behind him, "Uh, I can see a... I have no idea."

"Oh, my dear, but you are not trying hard enough. Clear your mind and focus upon your leaves," says Trelawney, and Harry can imagine the look of sheer boredom on Draco's face. He opts to remain at Pansy's side while they stare into her cup together, their cheeks barely centimetres apart.

"And you?" asks Trelawney, now focused upon Sally-Anne who sits beside a half-asleep Goyle.

"I see what looks like a...knife?" she asks, and Trelawney swiftly grabs the cup.

"No, dear, this is—a dagger!"

Sally-Anne sighs then feigns shock, "Oh gosh, so I'm going to be stabbed?"

"Nonsense, it means you'll receive help from your friends. A good sign indeed," says Trelawney, before walking over to approach the desk closest to Harry and Pansy. The former turns to see Zabini and Nott seated together while asked to read their teacups. "A fox? Could indicate close betrayal, danger indeed."

Harry darts his eyes over Pansy's left shoulder to spot the look on Zabini's face. Fortunately, neither he nor Nott seem to care about Trelawney's predictions. Upon turning to face Harry and Pansy, the Professor's eyes immediately tear up.

"Oh, spare me," whispers Harry, unintentionally making Pansy shiver. The latter deliberately pulls him closer as Trelawney watches on.

"Such a tragic relationship; my dear"—she looks down to acknowledge an unamused Pansy—"enjoy him while he's still with us."

Feeling sassy, Pansy immediately seizes the opportunity, "Oh, I certainly will do just that one day."

Harry rolls his eyes as Trelawney reads Pansy's teacup and smiles, "Oh my, this seems to indicate you're going to be very happy about something." She then walks away to another desk, leaving Harry as bored as ever.

He checks Pansy's watch and groans as a painful three minutes remain. "Wanna play 'Praise Me'?"

Pansy nods, and as the seconds creep by at a horrendously slow pace, the pair now sit facing each other. With elbows atop the desk, they rest their chin atop their hands, muttering whatever praises they can at each other.

"You've got the nicest skin I've seen on a guy, Harry."

"I've always liked that bob hairdo of yours—ouch!"

Something hits Harry on the back of his head before landing on the table. Looking down, he swipes up a palm-sized piece of wood and swiftly turns around to spot Tracey and Millicent looking bewildered at him. The former leans out of her chair, her voice barely above a whisper. "Are you two playing that stupid 'Praise Me' game _again_?"

"Heck yeah," replies Harry, grinning quite smugly as Tracey groans in annoyance. Just a few minutes later, Harry all but cheers in relief as the clock tower bell sounds. "End of class, finally!"

"Finally!" echoes Pansy, as the pair get up and swiftly clean their teacups together.

"...and remember, children; the path to awakening the Inner Eye is one of hard work and dedication. It is more than mere glancing over textbooks..."

Harry sighs as Trelawney delivers another mini-lecture, in the centre of the room, while everyone attempts to leave. "Okay, sure," he says in a whisper. Once finished listening to the Professor's rambling, the class all but sprints out the room and scramble towards the lengthy Divination Stairwell nearby. This includes Harry and Pansy, both of whom hastily exit the seventh floor and stand near the top of the Grand Staircase.

Yet again, Pansy spots Harry staring wistfully towards the Fat Lady's portrait nearby. "Not this again," sighs Pansy, poking Harry on his shoulder to grab his attention." What's done is done, and a Gryffindor Harry wouldn't be my Potter baby."

Harry nods, though still visibly uncertain. "But I'll never get the chance to see the same common room as my parents—"

"Divination's driving you mental, Harry. Besides, which guy would I then hang out with? Draco? Nott? Zabini?"—Pansy laughs—"Crabbe and Goyle?"

"I think you and Malfoy would've been nice together," says Harry, only to hear a snort beside him.

"You wanna be a man's man Gryffindor? Probably scared of girls? Who's gonna pamper you like we do, huh?"

"I'm not saying that I hate Slytherin, don't get me wrong," replies Harry. "It's just... I can't help but sometimes wonder how—"

"Seriously, it's like talking to a brick wall over here," says Pansy, "If we keep speaking this stuff, then we're gonna get crazier than Trelawney herself. Just accept the fact that Slytherin would be boring as hell without you, okay? Now, let's get moving 'cos lunch break ain't gonna last all day." She grabs him by the hand and leads Harry down the staircase. The grumbling of his stomach fuels Harry's regret at wasting those precious few minutes thinking about a different life.

"I'm gonna stuff myself so good in the Great Hall now," he admits.

Pansy giggles as they descend the final steps taking them into the Entrance Hall. "By the way, Mister  _King of Slytherin_ , the Hogsmeade trips are almost here"—she playfully smirks—"and I'm glad you've had reason to keep that temper in check over the summer."

"Yeah, me too, hard to believe my uncle actually signed."

"Ha, fat bastard," scoffs Pansy, and Harry spins around to gawk at her.

"Wait, how do you know what he looks like?"

"Did I just, uh, w-we've been on school for years now, Harry"—Pansy gulps nervously—"you told me."

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense, silly me," says Harry, as they now enter the crowded Great Hall. He spots quite a few students remaining at their own tables while others care little for House division. However, Slytherin's students seem the least likely to be mingling about, as always.

Harry now feels a poke to his side as Pansy speaks, "Hey, see that blonde Ravenclaw chatting with the youngest Weasel?"

"Ginevra is the 'Weasel's name."

"Whatever; anyway, that blonde is loopy and her name's Loony Lovegood," scoffs Pansy, strolling beside Harry as they finally take their seats at the Slytherin table..

"Loony? Who'd call their child that?' asks a bewildered Harry.

"Dunno, that's what I've heard," admits Pansy.

"Maybe I'll chat to her one day, she seems quite pretty."

"Where have you two been, huh?" asks Daphne, sitting with her back to the wall of the Great Hall. Beside her sits Tracey then Millicent.

"Just having a chat," says Harry, seated opposite Daphne, and with his back facing the Ravenclaws. Pansy, as usual, sits between Sally-Anne and him.

"If that's a code-word for kissing, then I'd like to have a chat with you too, Harry," says a sniggering Sally-Anne, gasping as Pansy swipes a sandwich from her plate to eat.

"Not fvery fwunny, Swallylan."

Harry shakes his head and speaks, "Swallow first, girl." Then he reaches to grab an empty goblet which is snatched by Daphne. "That was mine, Daffy!"

To his front left, Tracey laughs. "Don't be so mean, Daphne. He looks like he's about to cry."

"Aww," says Daphne mockingly, deciding upon filling the goblet with pumpkin juice and handing it over. "Happy now?"

Grumbling, Harry accepts the gesture and finally begins wolfing down his lunch. Before he can even decide for himself, he glances down to spot Pansy placing a sandwich onto his plate.

"Wha—?"

"Enjoy."

He simply sighs, appreciating the intrusive gesture nonetheless. Coming from Pansy, he knows she means well even in her own sassy manner. After finishing his scones, Harry turns left to see her having copied his lunch which Pansy stuffs into her mouth.

"Fwood is grrood twoday."

Harry ignores Pansy's blatant lack of table manners and carries on with his rather hefty helping of lunch. All seems quiet around Harry until the five girls glare at someone approaching the former from behind.  

"Tips for your next class," says Hermione, gifting Harry a piece of parchment. " Professor Flitwick's doing the Seize and Pull Charm today."

"You're so damn helpful," replies Harry, uncaring for anyone's response as he kisses Hermione on her hand. Once the latter's returned to the Gryffindor table, Tracey scoffs while snorting with laughter.

"I suppose the Mudblood's always been useful for something."

 _"Muggleborn",_  says Harry, glaring at his own best friend in defence of his first one. "How many years haven't you girls had to get over your dislike of my Granger?"

"Isn't he so cute when he's angry?" asks Daphne, taking pity on the genuine hurt on Harry's behalf. "We don't really hate her like the boys might."

Pansy speaks after finally swallowing her mouthful of lunch. "Not that I'm taking _Granger's_  side or anything, but let's not hurt Harry's feelings, okay? So long as the Muggleborn stays useful, we can tolerate her presence."

"Fine, but she's still a damn uptight excuse of a girl," says Tracey, earning yet another frown from Harry. "Just stating the truth; Granger may have a very soft spot for you, Harry, but she's a bitch to basically every other student around."

Pansy now whispers into Harry's ear, "Gryffindor's got Herbology next, right? The girls and I are gonna organise out a surprise for you, Mister What-If-My-Life-Was-Oh-So-Different. Wait for us by Charms as we won't be too long."

Once Pansy and the girls have left, Harry sits rather silently by himself. Then, to his surprise, he gapes as the fifth-year, Yasmin, decides to take a seat beside him.

"Uh, can I help you? Not in trouble am I, oh glorious Prefect?" he asks.

"Too much noise on the other end of the table, truly. Someday, you'll be battling through O.W.L. year as well, little third-year." Yasmin laughs and tucks a lengthy lock of brunette hair behind her ear. "It's a pity you haven't taken Muggle Studies, though, because that computer in class is so much fun!"

Harry shrugs. "Meh, I thought about it but decided against wasting my time."

"Oh boy, I can assure you that it's quite interesting indeed," says Yasmin, placing one of her textbooks atop the table beside Harry. The latter now finishing his meal with someone beside him at least. "Try not to splash any bits of soup on my textbook while I study, little Harry. And yes, you are little to me no matter what."

As the minutes creep closer towards the end of lunch, Harry cannot help but sneak a glance at the older girl every so often. He notes her sleek hair, taller build, shapely legs covered in stockings beneath her dress—

"Eyes off, you're too young, Mister," says Yasmin, paging through her readings set by Professor Lupin. "Man, I must admit that it's a real treat with all these positive staff changes."

"Such as?"

"Professor Lupin, for instance," replies Yasmin. "He's such a breath of fresh air and is actually COMPETENT compared to the jokes of our previous few years. What the hell was our Headmaster thinking when he hired Lockhart last year?"

"What about Quirrell?" asks Harry, remembering his brief confrontation with a competent Dark Arts user indeed.

"He was annoying even before he got dumb," says Yasmin, chortling with laughter as she speaks. "By that, I mean he was a really bland Muggle Studies teacher in my first two years at school. Then along came his change to Defence, and Quirrell got all weird with his garlic and turban stuff. Relax, Harry, there's no need to repeat your private story about You-Know-Who. Frankly, I'm amazed that Dumbledore even allowed such a bad wizard to roam this school. You know, a school full of _children_? If the old man's so good, then why didn't he take down and kick Quirell's arse back then?"

For the umpteenth time, Harry jumps to Professor Dumbledore's defence as he fervently argues in favour of the Headmaster. Minutes of heated conversation finally end as Yasmin compliments Harry's defiant stance.

"Don't get the wrong idea, Harry," she says, smiling warmly at him as usual. "I really do agree that a wizard of Dumbledore's calibre cannot be found anywhere these days. He's odd but perhaps that's his whole underestimating thing? I sure as hell wouldn't want to be against him on the battlefield."  

Since lunch hour's over half way finished, Harry thanks Yasmin for her company as he exits the Great Hall en route to the Charms Corridor. For the next few minutes, he stands quite patiently at the entrance to Flitwick's class until Pansy walks down the corridor with a triumphant smirk.

"Hey, boy; look what we got for you!" She reaches into her pocket and withdraws, much to Harry's amazement, a scarlet and gold tie.

Daphne sniggers and speaks with much amusement in her voice. "Now you'll get to live out your little dream scenario for a few minutes... or at least until we all get detention."

"W-Where the hell did you guys get that from?" asks a baffled Harry.

"Ugh, we just took down that idiot Longbottom and snatched his tie; no big deal," says Pansy.

Harry catches the Gryffindor tie that's tossed to him and grins. "It's only stolen property, so, what's the worst that could happen? Uh, I suppose I'll wear this near the end of class as it's double charms anyway."

"We are so screwed," admits Millicent.

"Gryffindor's got Herbology now but Transfiguration during our second Charms. Well, whether Sprout or McGonagall comes here, I wouldn't wanna spend this punishment with anyone but you ladies," says Harry, shoving Neville's tie into his pocket.

"And we love you for that. Haha! Might as well laugh it off in Hogsmeade later," says Pansy, leading them into the classroom while giggling nervously.


	10. I'm a Gryffindor!

_Double Charms Class, October 22nd, 1993._

Professor Flitwick stands in the centre of his classroom, eagerly providing feedback on each Slytherin's casting of the Seize and Pull Charm taught today. Although by no means perfect, the average performance is deemed 'adequate' enough by his standards for a new Charm's first session. "Bravo, kids! How about I demonstrate even further?"

As the little Charms master happily flaunts his skill by yanking books around, Harry sits nervously viewing Neville's snatched timetable. His hand ready to pull out the boy's Gryffindor tie at a moment's notice. Seated at the top row, he glances at his desk and then left at Pansy beside him.

"Herbology's done, but no Sprout to accost us of attacking Longbottom?" he asks, while partially focused on Flitwick below.

"That's odd; what did you say they have next?" asks a bored Pansy.

Harry scans over the timetable in his hand. "Double Transfiguration."

Daphne, sitting to Harry's right, yawns. "Oh, yeah, forgot you said that."

Beside her sits Millicent, who speaks anxiously, "Wait for it, folks, any moment now."

Tracey, to Millicent's right, sighs. "Man, Flitwick is boring as hell today."

Charms carries on until a series of rapid knocks sound at the door, which is shoved open to reveal an angered Professor McGonagall. Her eyes searching the rows of Slytherins until finding their target.

"Oh, Professor McGonagall, I wasn't expecting you," says Flitwick, ceasing his demonstration of yanking books.

Up at the top row, Harry whispers to his girls, "Crap's hit the fan!"

Daphne appears confused. "What's a fan, now again?"

"Muggle expression, sorry."

Clearing her throat noisily—and deliberately—McGonagall speaks, "My apologies, Professor, but I believe there's someone here who's in possession of stolen property." Her over-the-spectacle gaze immediately sends chills down every Slytherin seated in class. A murmur of confusion and excitement echoes across the near dozen third-years.

Flitwick gasps, "Oh dear, who?"

"I'm waiting for the culprits to show themselves. In the meantime, 50 points from Slytherin for such gross misconduct," says McGonagall, as she eyes the top rows menacingly.

"What? Come on—"

"Be quiet, Mr. Malfoy," states McGonagall, instantly silencing Draco and any other protesting student. "I'm waiting."

Pansy whispers, "Well, ladies and gent, it's detention time."

Harry swiftly stands up, trembling, and withdraws Neville's tie. "Oh, you mean this, Professor?" He now removes his Slytherin one and swiftly dons the scarlet and red. Looking down and across at the bewildered looks of the guys, Harry raises his hands. "Look at me; today I'm a Gryffindor!" He then proceeds to act out a hilarious display of prancing on the desks that brings much laughter to his Housemates.

"Professor Flitwick, what charm were you practicing today?" asks McGonagall.

"Seize and Pull," responds Flitwick.

"Excellent," McGonagall casually withdraws her wand and takes aim at Harry. " _Carpe Retractum."_

Harry swiftly winks at Pansy while being yanked towards Professor McGonagall. "Ow, my arse."

"That should be the least of your concerns, Mr. Potter. Now, is there anyone else you'd like to implicate in your theft?"

Looking up at the stern McGonagall, Harry shakes his head while getting to his feet. "No, ma'am, it was just me."

She nods and grabs him by the ear, "Very well then, let's pay the Headmaster a visit."

Whistles and sniggers echo across the class as Harry is dragged out by McGonagall, though not without giving a thumbs up behind her back. From here, he's taken to the Gargoyle Corridor where the entrance to Professor Dumbledore's office sits at its far end. After McGonagall speaks the correct password, the stone gargoyle opens up to permit Harry and McGonagall passage. They now enter the large circular room which is adorned by many strange instruments on tables, and one weird-looking basin behind closed doors. The only things not baffling Harry are the various portraits of old Headmasters and Headmistresses, Fawkes the Phoenix, and Dumbledore's private library.

While reading at his desk, Dumbledore glances up and smiles. "Ah, Minerva and... Harry?"

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore," greets Harry, showing his usual respect for the old man. Though feeling rather silly with a Gryffindor tie beneath his clearly Slytherin robes.

"Be quiet, Potter. Professor Dumbledore, this boy has been involved in assault and theft—"

Dumbledore calmly interrupts, "I can tell by his rather odd choice of clothing today."

Feeling slightly emboldened in Dumbledore's presence, Harry speaks up, "Maybe I'm a Gryffindor at heart, sir, I did pull the sword out of the hat." He looks up to see the look of disbelief on McGonagall's face at his wit.

"Yes, a remarkable feat for a Slytherin indeed. But, I cannot condone such actions in our school," says Dumbledore, in reference to McGonagall's accusations.

"I've already deducted 50 house points. Shall we cancel Potter's first Hogsmeade trip and add detention?" she inquires.

"Detention perhaps, but let's call Severus first."

Harry patiently awaits as McGonagall goes to retrieve Snape from his classroom. No doubt the Potions Master would be livid at being pulled from his lesson. Still, this leaves Harry alone in the office with Dumbledore and Fawkes. Twiddling his thumbs and fidgeting, Harry reaches for his stolen tie.

"I would suggest removing that before Severus arrives," says Dumbledore, smiling as usual. His advice is swiftly taken by Harry who swaps the scarlet and gold for his usual green and silver. Seeing his eyes darting to the plate of sweets on the table, Dumbledore pushes it towards him.

"Thank you, Professor," says Harry, politely taking a few sweets.

Silence fills the room before the Headmaster speaks."It is quite admirable that you've covered up for your friends, but I'd prefer that you show them better, Harry."

"Uh, yes, the girls had this idea that nicking a tie would be fun," says Harry.

"Specifically, Ms. Parkinson, I presume?"

"Yes, sir."

"Interesting girl with an interesting set of parents," says Dumbledore.

"What happened to Pansy's father, sir?" asks Harry.

"I'm not entirely sure, to be honest," says Dumbledore. His tone of voice and expression suggesting nothing but the truth.

Having never truly had an opportunity to discuss his best friend's parents, Harry eagerly carries on with this topic. "I know Pansy's mother used to be a Death Eater, by the way."

"I see you're familiar with that term. Yes, those were harsh times for many families on either side of the conflict," says Dumbledore.

"Could you perhaps tell me more about Mrs. Parkinson?" asks Harry, seeing Dumbledore glancing straight at him before responding.

"She was quite aggressive and repeatedly evaded capture from a veteran Auror by the name of Alastor Moody. But regardless of what Mrs. Parkinson had done, I urge you to see nothing but the best in her daughter," says Dumbledore, moments before his office door opens to reveal two Heads of Houses.

"Severus, this boy of yours deserves more tha—"

"I'll deal with it"—Snape turns to glare at a nervous Harry—"Having a little identity crisis now, are we, Potter?"

Harry swallows nervously before lowering his gaze to the floor. "Yes, sir, it was a rather foolish thing for me to do."

The Headmaster now speaks, calmly as usual, "I think House point deductions and detention should suffice. Minerva, you can return Mr. Longbottom's attire."

"Very well, Albus," says McGonagall, to whom Harry swiftly hands over the Gryffindor tie.

"Professor," calls Harry, seeing McGonagall turning to leave.

"Yes?"

"I'm, uh, sorry for making fun of your House," he admits, though McGonagall's expression confuses him.

"And I'm sorry that your friends act like a bunch of bambling hooligans," she responds, upon exiting the office.

"Detention for you tonight, Potter. Fortunately for you, it seems there are no degrading chores to be done in neither the Hospital Wing nor my classroom. Hmm..." says Snape, trying to determine some form of punishment. "Cleaning the trophy room tonight ought to be sufficient."

Following another hefty helping of dinner, Harry makes his way to the trophy room on the third floor where Mr. Filch awaits.

"Well, well, ain't had a Slytherin here in a while; thought Professor Snape kept you lot in line," says Filch, ushering Harry down the corridor towards the trophy room. The latter opts to remain quiet and simply serve his girls' punishment. Once at the door, Filch all but pushes him inside. "Professor Dumbledore told me to keep your wand, no magic allowed in detention chores. If I see a single cup, medal, or whatever not cleaned properly, you'll be scrubbing past midnight."

After handing his wand over to Filch and receiving a trophy polishing kit, Harry hears the door shut behind him. The caretaker carries on down the distant corridor, en route to his office and due to return before midnight. Hell-bent on earning back his wand, Harry gets to work on the nearest cabinet housing a few awards and medals.

Minutes of cleaning later, he sighs at working like a Muggle once again. But amidst the terrible boredom comes a strange sense of pride in being here. He smiles, emboldened by his unexplainable sense of happiness this evening. With the first cabinet done, Harry swiftly cleans off a few more, uncaring for whoever achieved such distinctions. At some point, he comes across a prominently displayed list of Head Boys and Girls, of which two names bring a smile to Harry's face.

_" Lily Evans - Head Girl, James Potter - Head Boy (1977-78)"_

Moments later...

_"Tom Marvolo Riddle - Head Boy (1944-45)"_

If he had his wand he'd surely burn a hole, just a tiny one, big enough to strike this name from such a prestigious list. Moving on with his detention, Harry fervently polishes each award plate until his reflection smiles back at him clearly. Satisfied, he moves on to the next set of awards until reaching a far corner of the room where he picks up a dusty old medal.

_"Medal for Magical Merit: Tom Marvolo Riddle"_

Perhaps it's getting late, or he's getting tired, but Harry suddenly feels a surge of hatred and hurls the medal across the room. "HALF-BLOOD HYPOCRITE MOTHERFU—"

A voice speaks from the now opened door.

"It was a mistake to send you here tonight, Harry," says Dumbledore, calmly entering the room with Harry's wand in hand. "The past can be a pleasant experience for some, but a terrible recollection for others."

"I really, really,  _really_  loathe Voldemort," says a seething Harry, wanting to do nothing but smash Tom's medal into countless pieces.

"Perhaps you ought to get a well-deserved night's rest," says Dumbledore, "Here, consider your detention as 'served' for tonight."

"Wha— Really?" gasps Harry upon receiving his wand. "Thank you, Professor!"

Eventually, he returns to his common room before settling in for the night. And after some much-needed sleep, Harry awakes to a fine Saturday morning.

"Let's make the most of it before the shitty weather kicks up," says Pansy, joining Daphne, Tracey, Millicent, Sally-Anne, and Harry in the common room. By noon, the group splits as Pansy stays with Harry to stroll past various students near the viaduct bridge. "I do so love crossing this bridge!" says Pansy, eyeing the lengthy expanse of the viaduct before them.

"Come on, let's have a race," says Harry.

"That's so Muggle!" laughs Pansy, "Well, come on then; on the count of three! One—Tw—Hey!"

"You know what they say about snoozing?" Harry sprints ahead and onto the viaduct with Pansy right behind. Their race startling passersby who hurriedly step aside with looks of bewilderment and disbelief.

Although Pansy sprints as fast as she can, it's Harry who takes the win at the Entrance Courtyard. With his back turned and leaning over to catch his breath, he finds himself leapt on by Pansy. Once again, their antics attract the attention of a handful of students around.

"Let's leave these two weirdoes alone," says a Gryffindor.

Meanwhile, Pansy sticks her nose up before walking to enter the castle's front doors with Harry. Together, they head up a few staircases and make their way to the fifth floor corridor before stopping at the Prefects' Bathroom.

"I really hope to make Prefect one day," says Pansy, staring at its entrance.

"To use this bathroom, right?"

"No"—she giggles mischievously—"To use it with  _you_. So, you'd better make either Prefect or Quidditch Captain someday, Mister." She shrieks with laughter at the blushing Harry. "By the way, I've heard that it's more of a communal luxury tub than separate showers. Sounds like lots of fun, eh?"

"I've...heard enough; let's get a move on." Harry leads them away from the Prefects' Bathroom towards the clock tower interior. From here, they make their way out onto the grounds to spend most of the afternoon near the Black Lake. Although Harry's not in the least concerned, Pansy soon discusses the threat of Sirius Black coming after Harry during their first ever Hogsmeade trip

"How the bloody hell can you be so calm when there's a mad follower of the Dark Lord out there?" she asks, to which Harry yawns and shrugs.

"Do you really think an escaped convict's just gonna march through Hogsmeade?" asks Harry, waving his hand dismissively. "I really don't give a rat's arse about this Sirius bloke."

 


	11. Hogsmeade Preparations

_Potions Classroom, Sunday October 31st, 1993, 07h00._

The day of his first Hogsmeade trip has arrived, and Harry sits in the Potions classroom with Snape for the former's own protection. Thus far, he has been readying a uniquely weaker variant of the Oculus Potion, as per the Professor's advice.

"Almost done, Potter, now add that crystallized water but don't let it turn indigo as the textbook says."

"Okay, sir," says Harry, doing as told until his mixture appears a faded blue. He then stirs as instructed until it turns a tinge of orange before heating it up to a pinkish colour, rather than purple.

"Lastly, shake and add that stewed mandrake in a smaller dose than the textbook shows," says Snape, now standing beside Harry's workstation. "By brewing a weakened Oculus Potion, it will only serve to correct your eyesight until this afternoon. Remind me as to why you are not brewing it to standard strength?"

"Because a proper Oculus Potion enhances all the senses, and that would be torture in the packed village of Hogsmeade," says Harry, earning himself just a hint of approval from Snape. "But how do we know that this weak mixture won't just correct one of my other senses instead, sir?"

"Do not question my methods, Potter; if you follow my instructions to perfection, then this brew will act as intended." Snape now scoffs a slight bit. "How inconvenient it is for you to prepare for just one Hogsmeade trip indeed."

Once the brewing is complete, Harry thanks Snape for his assistance for today. The Potions Master, however, barely acknowledges Harry's gratitude and simply reminds him to drink a specified dose which is soon poured into a goblet for consumption. The rest is then vanished as Harry takes a few doses of Oculus. No sooner than swallowing his final mouthful does his vision blur rather spectacularly behind his glasses. The classroom and its Professor now botches and blurs before him.

"That'll be all the assistance I'll provide; go see Professor McGonagall for further advice," says Snape, ushering Harry out of his classroom. This leaves Harry to make his way up a couple of floors while en route to Professor McGonagall's office. But along the way, he casually walks past a startled Hermione near the first floor corridor.

"Harry? How in the world are you walking around so carelessly without your glasses?" She now races over to him, her expression quite surprised.

"Oculus Potion, my Mugglebun." Harry beams at his friend's amazed expression.

Hermione nods, although she's fairly confused with regards to his plans. "But I'm sure I've read that it also enhances your other senses; it'll be a nightmare with all these people today."

He shakes his head and wags his right index finger. "Uh-huh, pretty bookworm; Professor Snape deliberately weakened the brew according to his own genius recipe. So, it's just my eyesight that's enhanced, or in my case, corrected."

"I take it you're trying to disguise yourself from Sirius Black?" asks Hermione, walking beside Harry through the tapestry corridor as they pass Snape's storeroom.

"Sorta, I suppose that's one reason. Though mainly I'd prefer to avoid getting unwanted attention."

Hermione glances at him with an amused grin on her face, "Oh? Mister confident Slytherin celebrity doesn't want to be noticed?"

"I just want to be a normal boy today; something I've never had the chance of doing. Back home I'm a loser, but here I'm the complete opposite. So, today I want to be... neutral, I guess," says Harry. "But it's not just about having no glasses, nope. That' s why I'm in need of your Head of House and her amazing Transfiguration skills." They soon reach McGonagall's office, located off the first floor corridor, where Harry knocks and hopes that McGonagall's available. "Come on, please be home..."

To Harry's relief, the door opens to a slightly surprised McGonagall who's minutes away from exiting. "Potter and Granger? Is there something you need?" She then listens earnestly as Harry states his request. "Yes, I suppose it makes sense to take as many precautions with you as possible, Potter. After all, Sirius Black is a known affiliate of You-Know-Who himself, and the last thing we need is him spotting you today. Well, that's assuming he's mad enough to even approach Hogsmeade village."

"Come on, let's make you as unrecognisable as possible, Harry" says Hermione, ushering him into the small office which is heated by a large, welcoming fire. Once in the centre of the room, McGonagall draws her wand and takes aim at Harry. Meanwhile, Hermione eagerly stands to the side and observes what is likely to be some N.E.W.T.-level stuff indeed. When asked if she might know which spell to use, Hermione admits to not having read this far yet.

"No worries, Granger," says McGonagall, turning to look at the grinning Harry. "I must remind you that this is in no way for fun and games, Potter. After some debate, she settles upon turning Harry's hair a shade of burgundy which elicits a quizzical expression from Hermione.

"Aren't we trying to keep Harry more hidden amongst the crowd, ma'am? This colour's quite eye-catching, I'd say."

"It would also make Potter easier for one of us to spot should he require assistance on the double," says McGonagall, now lengthening Harry's hair and aiming at his eyes. "Before you go, Potter, I'll need to change those eyes. Green like your mother's is far too obvious."

"Why would Sirius Black care about my eyes?" asks Harry, though without response from McGonagall who soon transfigures them to blue.

"Harry James Potter with blue eyes; oh, this is super strange," says Hermione, caught between smiles and giggles.

"Off you go now and remember: they'll all wear off around this afternoon. Please be in the castle before then, just in case," says McGonagall sternly.

"Yes, ma'am, I'll give you my slip at the courtyard," replies Harry, swiftly turning around and strutting out the room. "You wanna see something amazingly awesome, Hermione? The source of my shiny Gringotts vault?" He proceeds to pull out a tub of Sleekeazy's Hair Care Potion from his pocket.

"You really ordered that for today?" asks Hermione, keenly inspecting the sealed tub as Harry gives a brief overview of his late paternal grandfather.

"...so, we can thank grandpa Fleamont for saving my arse today," says Harry, stopping mid-way through a corridor where Hermione styles his hair down and well over his famous scar. "Do I, um, look alright?"

 "Definitely! I'd love to see the look on your friends' faces when they see you now, Harry."

"Who's Harry? For now, I'm James!"

"Seriously? Using your middle name is a poor excuse of cover," replies Hermione, arriving at the first floor balcony which cuts through the Entrance Hall. "But then again, I'm sure there are other Jameses out there in Hogsmeade anyway."

"Why don't I just call myself Tom Riddle and get a wand like Voldemort's?" asks a guffawing Harry. "Just imagine that! Me, the Boy-Who-Lived, going around whacking people with whatever the hell wand Voldemort used, hahahaha!"

"I'm not even going to answer that," sighs Hermione, descending the marble staircase while crossing the Entrance Hall to exit the castle. "So, I'm going to be hanging out with Ron today; are you jealous, James?"  

"Definitely," says Harry, gritting his teeth at the prospect of Ron getting Hermione to himself out here.

The remark brings both a smirk and laughter from Hermione. "As sly as a snake."

Scowling ever so slightly, Harry narrows his eyes. "Few guys deserve someone like you, Mugglebun; it'll be a battle with me to win you over."

"A battle? Forever so dramatic, aren't you?"

"Whatever it takes, you're a very special girl indeed," admits Harry, "Ronald's an idiot, anyway. Who the hell brings a rat to school? Disgusting! I hope Crookshanks gets it for lunch—"

"Don't talk about that, please!" sighs Hermione, "It's bad enough that he's blaming me for Scabbers' disappearance. Hopefully, this trip can help mend some peace between the two of us."

As the minutes pass by and students gradually gather near the main gate, Hermione remains at Harry's side. "Looks like Malfoy and Greengrass have spotted you. Well, have a good day, James! I think I'll go and find Ron now."

Harry feels a pang of regret in watching Hermione walk across the courtyard towards Ron and his bunch of friends. Meanwhile, Tracey, Draco, and Daphne rush to Harry's side while awaiting their turn at the gate.

"Is this Potter?" asks Draco.

"Did we get a new student or something?" asks Tracey. The trio of Slytherins now gathered around their smug friend.

"Who's 'Harry'? I'm 'James' now," he exclaims, seeing their looks of amusement, awe, and confusion.

"You look totally different now. What happened? Your hair's all neat and changed, where's the glasses? Don't you need them? How'd you change your eyes and—"

"Relax, Draco," says Harry, "Let's just say I enlisted the help of Professor Snape and McGonagall. But everything's reverting back this afternoon."

"But why? You look handsome either way," says Tracey.

"Maybe I'm trying to hide from Sirius Black? Or perhaps I'm also just trying to be a normal boy out in the village today? Don't want people to recognize me and interrupt my buddy time," says Harry, earning looks of approval from his pals.

Daphne smiles while speaking. "That's surprisingly noble of you, Harry—"

"Uh-huh! It's _James_ ," says Harry firmly. "By the way, where are the others?"

Draco sighs. "Still eating, since everyone slept late this morning. Parkinson's gonna freak when she sees you now, Potter."

"She's gonna freak in a good way," says Harry, walking between his group as they approach Professor McGonagall standing near the gate. "Here's my slip, ma'am."

"Do take care of yourself, Potter, and for Heaven's sake don't cause any incidents out there."

Harry struts over towards Filch while gasps and whispers follow the former through the group. "Watch this," he says, briefly leaving his group to approach Fay Dunbar standing to the far right of the crowd. "Hey, you must be Fay, care to play?"

"Excuse me, but who the heck are you?" she asks, more flattered than confused.

"Name's James. I heard you're trying to become a Beater, well, I've got a nice bat for you to handle, beautiful—"

Daphne and Tracey swiftly barge their way through the crowd to grab Harry by the arms. "Leave the Gryffindors alone, Harry, for God's sake!"

"You truly are mental, Potter," states Draco, while the group awaits their opportunity to leave. Eventually, they follow the path leading to Hogsmeade's High Street where crowds of third-years take in the sights of the sole all-wizarding village in Britain.

As the crowd scatters across the village, eagerly exploring and browsing its many shops, Harry remains with his trio until the rest arrives. He turns around to view Pansy, Millicent, Sally-Anne, Crabbe and Goyle hurrying towards them. Nott and Zabini appear to be following from behind as well, and all stop in their tracks upon seeing the grinning Harry.

"What in heck?" asks a wide-eyed Sally-Anne.

"Is that who I think it is? Yeah, it's him alright," says Millicent.

"Shush! I'm trying to keep a low profile out here today. No celebrity stuff, okay? Call me James, but only out here," says Harry, basking in the bewildered looks of his peers. The moment's silence is broken as Pansy essentially leaps at him, her hug throwing both against a nearby wall.

"Oh, you're so adorable!"

"Get off me—ow! My head!" yelps Harry, hitting the brickwork as he looks around for assistance.

"Someone get her off Potter before we're all banned for public indecency," says Blaise.

Indeed, the rest of the girls eventually manage to settle Pansy down and pat the bits of ice off Harry's clothes. Minutes later, Pansy takes a deep breath and apologizes. "Sorry, you just totally caught us off guard with this new look"—she listens eagerly as Harry explains his reasoning once more—"That makes sense, my boy."

Draco harrumphs, trying to gather the near-dozen Slytherins together. "Right, how much have we each got to spend? I've got 25 Galleons."

"Pfft, showoff, I've got 10 G's" says Millicent, who seems to have gotten less chubby since last year.

"11 Galleons in my pocket," says Daphne, happily jingling the coins in her robes.

"13 Over here," replies Sally-Anne, flicking her bangs proudly.

"9 Each," says Crabbe, speaking on behalf of himself and Goyle.

"14 Here," adds Nott, while Zabini notes to have the same.

"Mom warned me not to overspend, so I've just got 10," says Pansy.

"I count 15 in my pocket," boasts Tracey.

Everyone turns to Harry as Draco asks, "And you Po- uh James?"

With a smug expression, Harry pats both of his trousers pockets. "I've got 30 Galleons."

"What? Are you trying to out-rich me? Alright, well played," says Draco.

Pansy politely interrupts, "Uh, none of us are poor you know."

"Yeah but Harr—, cock! I mean 'James', and Malfoy are the top 2 coin hoarders here," says Daphne, "I'd love to see their bank vaults."

"To be fair"—Harry lowers his voice—"my parents are dead, so no more fixed monthly income. You people all have an advantage over that."

"Alright, let's not get emotional," says Tracey, "Let's split up and explore this place!"

 

 


	12. First Hogsmeade Trip

_Gladrags Wizardwear, Hogsmeade._

Half an hour has already passed by as Harry stands, thankful for his change of appearance, in a corner of the clothing shop. Meanwhile, Pansy and Daphne appear to be absolutely enjoying themselves here while Harry does all the carrying. Three robes of different shades lay folded over his arm as the girls seemingly drift between displays of clothing.

"Oh, Pansy, come see this one! I think you'll like its frilly style," says Daphne happily, now calling Pansy over to the rear of the shop. "Where's James? Hey, come and provide your opinion!"

Harry squeezes past a few shoppers to approach and comment on Pansy's outfit. "I don't think that style suits you."

 "What? Oh come on..." she argues, but Daphne nods in agreement with Harry.

"At least he's honest; good boy." Daphne pats Harry on the head before shooing Pansy back inside to change.

"How long are you two gonna shop? Geez, it's been nearly an hour now, I think," sighs Harry, now leaning against a nearby wall. Shoppers come and go as he spends the next few minutes once again following his girls throughout both floors of the store.

"James!" calls Pansy, standing beside the fitting room door as Harry bolts through the shop.

"Yes, Pansy?"

"I'm going in next."

He gawks in disbelief and facepalms. "You called me halfway across the store just to tell me that?" Although Harry's upset, Pansy's giggle soon brings a smile to his face before Daphne exits. The latter playfully twirling around to show off her chosen shirt.

"What do you think, James? Does this shade of purple look good on me or what?"

"Yeah it does. Just don't go all purple or else you'll end up looking like Madam Hooch sometimes does at the table," replies Harry, laughing.

"Oh be quiet! Heh, wait until it's your turn to shop," says Daphne, playfully narrowing her eyes.

"Nope, I'm not buying anything. You two have taken up all the time I'd spend in one place."

Daphne immediately scoffs, her expression haughty indeed. "Excuse me? Oh no, Har— James, you're not gonna be dressing up like a Muggle every single day after classes."

Before Harry can respond, a piece of clothing comes flying out the dressing room to land on his face. "Aaaa! What the heck?"

"Pansy, have some manners for God's sake!" scolds Daphne, tossing the item back to its laughing owner behind a curtain.

"W-What was that?" asks Harry.

"A bra, seriously. Well, at least you've got your first experience with one," says Daphne, standing beside Harry at the dressing room.

Moments later, Pansy steps out in a casual black dress. "What do you think? Not too elegant, I hope?"

Harry nods and agrees on Pansy's outfit. "That works well, and it doesn't seem to draw too much attention either."

The trio now continue wandering around the warm store, admiring various outfits displayed on wooden shelves. For the umpteenth time, Harry climbs the steps up to the first floor behind the girls. As they passionately discuss their preferred choice of clothing, Harry sets the outfits he's carrying down before leaning over the railing.

"Don't worry, James, just another half an hour maybe," says Daphne, huddled together with Pansy at a display of long, fingerless gloves.

"Yeah, you said that half an hour ago," mutters Harry, clearly unamused by this unnecessarily long shopping trip. Resting his head on his arms atop the railing, Harry soon smiles as none other than Hermione enters the store with Ron at her side.

"Oh bloody hell no; see you later," says Ron, clearly in no mood to browse such a store.

"Ron," sighs Hermione, "don't be like that, come on!" She now tugs him on the sleeve to join her.

"Mum spends ages in these kinda shops. I think I'll go back to Honeydukes and buy something for Ginny," says Ron, swiftly turning around and exiting the store. Standing alone in disbelief, Hermione stomps ahead before glancing up at the railing above.

Harry spins around and pats Daphne on the shoulder. "Okay, I've followed you long enough now, so you owe me a favour for this."

"What?" asks Daphne.

"I'm going to hang out with a Muggleborn friend whether you like it or not," says Harry, politely offering the few outfits over his arm for Daphne to carry.

"Granger?" asks Daphne, to which Harry nods. "Seriously?"

But Pansy appears unfazed. "Sure thing, whatever makes you happy, James."

"Wait, are we really gonna let him walk around with a Mudblood out here?" asks Daphne, hardly apologizing for using the word.

"He doesn't even look like our boy, so let him have his fun. Besides, he'll pay for our clothes, right?" asks Pansy. "Just 10 Galleons for all this, pretty please?"

"So, you would've spent all your cash on what? Five outfits?" Harry sighs before reaching to withdraw the requested amount, "Fine, here."

"Thanks, sweetheart!" Both girls kiss him on the cheek before pocketing the Galleons and happily resuming their shopping spree.

Having seen the entire scenario unfold on the balcony, Hermione shakes her head. "And just like that, they got you good, Mister James."

"What would you like, your Highness?" asks Harry, offering to spend just a few more minutes within this clothing store. Hermione, however, drags Harry along for at least another half an hour before exiting to the breezy street outside.

"Let's go pay a visit to this place called Madam Puddifoot's," says Hermione, flashing a kind smile, "I hear it's quite the setting."

"Okay, lead the way; not like I have a say."

They head down a side road off Hogsmeade's High Street where the pink-themed teashop stands. Now, Harry feels a surge of excitement at being able to do something other than endless shopping. Upon entering the teashop, Harry hears a tuneful tinkle ringing above as a bell announces their entrance. The place seems quite cramped with romantic couples seated everywhere at extravagant little tables.  

"Everyone's so mushy in here; it's quite awkward indeed," says Harry, leading the way to a corner table at the far end of the frilly decorated room. Once seated, the pair of third-years are helped by Madam Puddifoot, a rather stout woman with black hair. Although it's initially awkward for both Harry and Hermione, they eventually grow accustomed to the teashop's atmosphere and spend nearly an hour at their round table.

"Wanna cuddle?" asks Harry, holding a biscuit which Hermione leans forward to bite.

"Don't try your luck," she replies, smiling nonetheless.

Meanwhile, Harry ponders his fondness over Hermione; a feeling that's only increased  after she'd risked near death last year due to her diligence in uncovering the mystery of the Basilisk. Just how far would Hermione go for him? Harry thinks back to his summer holidays and gasps. "So, Holly Nates was you!"

"Um, what was me?"

"That Muggle girl over the holidays! You know how to brew Polyjuice Potion which changes one's appearance. So, that Holly Nates girl was you! I never thought you'd go that far to keep me company at home. It all makes sense now; there's absolutely no way a random Muggle would've been so friendly to me. I can't thank you enough for such kindness indeed!" says a grateful Harry, beaming at a truly baffled Hermione.

"What in the world are you talking about, Harry?"

"Didn't I tell you about my summer? I'm sure I mentioned it to you?" asks Harry.

"Oh, that! Well, I'm sorry but I was nowhere near your hometown. What makes you think it wasn't just a friendly Muggle?" asks Hermione, now declining any further delicacies offered by Madam Puddifoot nearby.

"If I think back to it, she was far too friendly despite my rubbish reputation at home," says Harry, "She even laughed off my story about being in a juvenile institution and, most suspiciously, wasn't at all bothered by the sight of my wand on the grass."

Hermione shakes her head. "Muggles wouldn't think too much of a wand, you know. She probably thought it was a toy or something."

"Fair point. But when I got home and was insulted, I remained calm and yet a window still shattered nearby. That was similar to when I used to lose my temper; don't tell me that ain't accidental magic," says Harry.

"You're over thinking this; it could have been a stone hitting the window too," says Hermione.

"Sorry, it's just that 'Holly Nates' left a real good impression on me. I still think about her sometimes, even if she was likely a Muggle." Harry sighs with disappointment at his false assumptions. But the gesture of Hermione holding his hand atop the table soothes his busy mind.

"I'm not lying; that honestly wasn't me. However, I also can't think of anyone who'd be crazy enough to disguise themselves as a Muggle just to comfort you, Harry. Wizarding folk usually don't like Muggles at all," says Hermione. "Just look how some folks treat me, a Muggleborn..."

"You're right. But still, it would've been a brilliant surprise knowing you'd go that far just for me."

"I actually would; but my parents wouldn't allow me to just wander around like that, especially not as far as you live," says Hermione.

That first sentence brings sheer joy to Harry, and he remains smiling throughout his stay at the teashop. Whatever is left in their plates, be it muffins, cake, or any other dessert, is soon finished by the pair of students before they pay their bills. Then they squeeze past a few round tables to exit the cosy little teashop.

"Brace yourself for the chill," says Hermione, "Whew, but wasn't that place nice and warm, eh? Shame man, hold still." Drawing her wand, she mutters an incantation which ends up blasting Harry back with a wave of hot air.

"Ow! What the heck?" Harry yelps and picks himself up from the icy road. An embarrassed giggle escaping Hermione as she helps him up.

"Sorry! I guess that Hot-Air Charm needs a bit more practice," says Hermione, trying to stifle her laughter.

"Not funny; here, lemme try it on you," Harry spends nearly 10 minutes practicing the incantation and wand movements as mentioned by Hermione. Each attempt blasts back layers of ice until the surrounding pavement is clearly exposed. Twelve attempts later and he finally demonstrates the required control.

"Still got that knack for Charms I see," says Hermione, rubbing her gloved hands as Harry gradually warms her up."Haha, it's just like using a hair dryer; quite comfy indeed." The narrowing of her eyes while grinning shows a genuinely happy Granger.

For Hermione, her day continues uneventfully until the Halloween feast gets underway in the evening. The Great Hall is adorned accordingly, and students enjoy the spooky atmosphere which is further enhanced by the various ghosts flying about. Every table appears decked out in treats of greater proportion than usual to celebrate the occasion.

From her view at the Gryffindor table, Hermione smiles upon seeing Harry enjoying himself with his peers; his appearance now reverted back to its natural look. Though her relationship with Ron has been marred by Crookshanks' aggressive behaviour towards Scabbers, Hermione tries to act as civil as possible with Ron. Thankfully, Hogsmeade seems to have briefly mended their friendship for today. But the jokes and humour ends as the Gryffindor students eventually pile up on the Grand Staircase. Their entrance portrait bearing unmistakable signs of slashing damage.

Minutes later, the Fat Lady gives her explanation on Sirius Black, and the Gryffindors are swiftly led back to the Entrance Hall. Here, they're joined by the other Houses as excited whispers echo about. Brisk steps sound from behind the Slytherins as they part to allow a striding Snape though; his expression malicious indeed.

Amidst the crowd standing at the entrance to the dungeons stands a surpassingly calm Harry Potter. The group of Pansy, Daphne, Tracey, Millicent, and Sally-Anne gather defensively around him. All five girls standing with their wands drawn while Harry appears more confused than anything else.

"Where's he? Where's Black? Where's he? I wanna Hex him! Where's he?" asks Pansy, her tone alert and her movements quick.

"Relax, the staff will handle things," replies Daphne, though still holding her wand in hand.

"If he shows up, then we'll sic 'em!" says an excited Tracey, her layered tomboyish hair whipping about as she checks left, right, and ahead.

But Harry merely yawns, seemingly unfazed by the action. "If he's going to hunt me, at least get the House right, hahaha!"

"How can you be so calm, Potter?" asks a Ravenclaw girl named Padma Patil. Her Gryffindor twin echoes the question before their conversation is cut short as everyone is led into the Great Hall. Here, the long tables have been pushed to the wall with chairs stacked atop it. Hundreds of purple sleeping bags now lay about waiting to be grabbed.

Before he can move to fetch his own bag, Harry is approached by his favourite Slytherin Prefect.

"You alright? Not too shaken by panic, are you?" asks Yasmin, placing her hands on his shoulders.

"I'm fine; Sirius Black doesn't scare me in the least," replies Harry, before Percy Weasley orders the students to bed.

"Sleep tight, little Harry," says Yasmin, smiling kindly as she leaves to patrol the Entrance Hall.

"Finally, looks like I get to sleep with my girls, hell yeah! Thanks, Sirius Black," says Harry. He looks around to see students grabbing their bags and finding space to lie down in the sizable Great Hall. "Girls, let's cosy up."

"Dirty-minded boy," laughs Pansy, seizing their sleeping bags before gathering together near a length of wall. While Draco and the boys spread themselves a fair distance from each other, Pansy does the exact opposite with her girls and Harry.

"Snakes of a feather, sleep together," says Harry, earning himself snorts of laughter from the surrounding Slytherins.

"That makes absolutely no sense," says Astoria Greengrass, laying a few metres away and watching them. Her response now met by a playful wave of the fist by her older sister.

"Shoosh, go sleep!" says Daphne, narrowing her eyes while playfully glaring at her giggling sister. Once everyone has settled into the Hall for the night, the same question is asked:

_"How did Sirius Black get inside the castle?"_

"Well, he can't Apparate in here because the school's got protective enchantments against that," says Pansy, laying on her left side barely a metre from Harry.

"What's Apparate? Sounds like food," says Harry, laying on his right and smiling at Pansy. Meanwhile, Percy raises his voice to let everyone know the lights are going out now, and that he wants everyone in bed.

"No more talking!"

"It's when you disappear and reappear outta thin air. Kinda like Muggles think of teleportation and whatnot in their movies," replies a whispering Pansy.

"You amaze me every day; oh, lemme guess,  _mom_  told you that too, eh?" asks Harry.

"Maybe, or my cousin Alyssa did, since we all try to understand the enemy. Here, lemme help you." Pansy reaches forward to remove Harry's glasses and fold them at his side. Her warm smile now blurring out as he tries to focus his gaze upon her. Seconds later, the lights swiftly go out which darkens the Hall save for the starry night sky through the enchanted ceiling above.

"Go sleep; quit talking; do you want me to deduct points?" Percy seemingly prowls around the Great Hall while eyeing each student laying about. But he's still a fair distance from them as Harry decides to try and enjoy the view from above.

"Maybe Black should attack again; I wouldn't mind stargazing like this before bed, eh?" asks Pansy.

"Yeah; are any of you girls awake?" asks Harry, to which he receives murmurs of acknowledgement from Sally-Anne and Daphne.

"Quiet, Ron! You too, Finnigan!" scolds Percy, still prowling around the opposite end of the Hall where the Gryffindors are gathered. "Flint, quit talking about Quidditch; match isn't until next Saturday anyway." Percy now appears to be headed towards the Slytherins.

"Hey, let's pretend to be asleep and eavesdrop on whatever we can," says Pansy.

"That's what I'm talking about!" replies Harry, fairly certain of seeing her smile in the darkened Great Hall.

Indeed, they merely feign sleep and manage to hear snippets of conversation between Snape, Dumbledore and the Prefects. It appears that Sirius Black is nowhere to be found, although Snape appears concerned over the possibility of an inside job; his statement soon shut down by a confident Dumbledore.

With little of interest to hear, Harry soon falls asleep for the night.


	13. A Stormy Week

_First week of November, 1993._

Conspiracy theories have certainly ran rampant across the school in the wake of the Fat Lady's assault. With all the action seemingly happening around Gryffindor, Harry once again wonders just how different his life would've been there. Has an escaped convict truly tried to take him out on Halloween?

"I still can't believe how dumb someone smart enough to escape Azkaban could be. I mean, surely he'd hear from somewhere that our Harryboy is in Slytherin?" asks Pansy, now walking alongside Harry and Daphne in the corridors. Behind them strolls a prefect, Yasmin, who has taken to maintaining watch on Harry. Not that he minds being followed by an attractive older student.

"I wonder how funny it would've been if he did get in? Would he wait inside or realize he picked a stupid night to attack because everyone was at the feast?" asks Daphne, her wand positioned for quicker withdrawal when needed. They now head through the fifth floor corridors while looking to exit the castle via the clock tower.

Care of Magical Creatures seems to be first on the list today and, fortunately, the weather seems merely a light drizzle. But the ever-increasing clouds and greying skies depict some truly bad weather in the days to come.

"I feel sorry for you Quidditch boys if the weather gets worse over this week. You're gonna get soaked out there," says Daphne, with a slight shivering gesture that makes Harry giggle.

"I'm more concerned about it raining all over my glasses; I'd be blind as a bat then."

They now exit into the courtyard once more and make haste towards the wooden bridge. From behind, Yasmin takes to seeing them across the grounds before turning back to attend her own classes once the trio are within range of Hagrid's Cabin.

"I like Yasmin; she's quite nice for an older student," admits Harry.

"And what about her do you find  _nice,_ huh?" asks Pansy, causing Harry to lower his head in embarrassment. "It's probably the skirt and tights eh? Most boys are suckers for that uniform look."

Harry mumbles to himself while Daphne leans towards him, trying to decipher his incoherent speech. "What's that? Is Harrybaby lost for words?"

"Hello, Harry, yeh three are gonna be gettin' soaked out here!" says Hagrid, upon seeing the trio arriving without umbrellas. Pansy immediately turns to glance amusingly at Daphne as Hagrid goes to check if he has any spare ones inside.

"Special treatment from the big oaf; thanks, Harry," she says, darting her eyes to an offended Harry.

"This  _big oaf_  introduced me to the magical world; without him, you wouldn't have met me. Need I remind you two of this  _again?_ " he whispers, seemingly hurt by the insult.

"Was just a joke, fine, sorry." Pansy leads the trio to a spot near Hagrid's patch of garden, preferably away from the Gryffindors gathered about. Meanwhile, the rest of the Slytherins stand scowling beneath their umbrellas.

"Flobberworms again! Can this big oaf teach nothing else? And why are we out here in the rain? If I get sick, then my father will hear about it," sneers Draco, seated between Crabbe and Goyle. Though with him taking up most of the sheltered spot beneath their three umbrellas.

"Shut up, Malfoy," warns Ron from across the patch of garden.

Draco now adopts an even more condescending tone, "Oh I'm sorry; I suppose your family's used to being out in the rain?" The statement bringing laughter from many Slytherins while the Gryffindors hurl insults in return.

"Just leave Hagrid alone," says Hermione, and Harry already knows what's to follow from Draco's mouth. In the midst of the verbal row, Harry seizes an opportunity to fling a stone towards Draco without anyone noticing.

"Nobody asked for your opinion, filthy Mudb—" He looks around wildly after getting hit. "Who threw that?"

"I'm not sure," replies Harry, now putting on a convincingly upset look at Draco getting hit. "Was probably a brave Gryffindor that got you."

Draco scofs before looking at his supposed attackers. "Funny, huh? It's only a matter of time until the oaf gets what's coming to him." He would add further insults but pauses to watch Hagrid walking across the garden to hand three umbrellas to Harry.

"Sorry abou' that."

"No problem, it's only a drizzle anyway," responds Harry with a genuine smile. He watches Hagrid walking over to begin today's—admittedly dull—lesson on flobberworm care. Though it hardly requires any effort, Harry at least tries to make it seem as if he enjoys the lesson. While everyone tries to pass time with feeding and watching their flobberworms, Pansy leans to whisper in Harry's ear.

"It's really weird to have one of us be so friendly with the oaf, and yet let Draco say his say."

Harry nods then smiles. "Taking on Draco would just bring unnecessary trouble, especially considering we share a dorm." His remark brings a nod of understanding from Pansy beside him.

"I sometimes feel it's unfair on you for being so accommodating, such as learning a new Quidditch position or putting up with all that rubbish at home," says Pansy with an expression of pity. The power dynamic between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter has always been a strange one indeed, for it's a battle hardly fought. But what many are blissfully ignorant towards is that Harry's the one with the greater power indeed. Perhaps there might come a day when he can no longer accommodate his roommates? Only time will tell if things ever do reach this breaking point for Harry Potter.

Once class has finished, Harry returns the umbrellas to Hagrid in his cabin while Pansy follows suit.

"Yeh sure yeh don' wanna keep 'em?" asks Hagrid, seated comfortably on a chair.

"There might be other students who'd forgotten theirs like we did. Best to keep them ready just in case," says Harry, his sentiment bringing a smile from Hagrid.

"Alrigh' then, very thoughtful of yeh, Harry. What's next on yer timetables now?" asks Hagrid, now opting for a light snack while speaking.

Pansy replies before Harry, while glancing at him as they stand at the door. "Defence Against the Dark Arts, Professor."

"Well, wouldn' wanna keep Professor Lupin waitin' too long, would we? Off yeh go then, and enjoy yer day, both of yeh!" says Hagrid warmly, earning another smile from Harry.

As the day goes by, its weather gradually worsens until a full downpour is heard by late evening. Meanwhile, Yasmin continues to follow Harry throughout various corridors and, when approached, jokingly admits to feeling more like a babysitter than anything else. She would rotate these duties with her male counterpart but knows that he's having a tough time already keeping up with his studies. With a Prefect on his tail between classes, Harry doesn't have much time to idle about. By Tuesday, Yasmin calls Harry over to notify him of something outside Potions class.

"Hey, I was just thinking: If the weather doesn't clear up by weekend, then remind me to check something for you."

Being tailed by Yasmin also brings additional attention as quite a few older Slytherins ask if Harry could pass a message or leave her a note on occasion. It doesn't take long for him to voice his displeasure which causes Yasmin to personally approach her 'admirers'. By Thursday, Harry finally finds himself relieved of the unwanted role of errand boy and enjoys the rest of his day.

Friday brings a different problem altogether: the weather has worsened to a fearsome storm. And with Slytherin taking on Gryffindor tomorrow, it doesn't take long for an angry Flint to stop Harry and Draco one morning in the corridors.

 His voice a whisper, Flint states his regrets. "Damn it; I should've asked you to keep up the injured act, Malfoy. We could've used you to reschedule our match against Gryffindor!"

But Harry almost laughs at this idea. "Wouldn't work because I'm still available to play. Seriously, what a silly idea." He takes to laughing at Flint's supposedly 'brilliant-but-unused' scheme which has the Captain gritting his teeth in embarrassment.

"Uh, I knew that, was just thinking up some delaying tactics. We big boys know how to weather the storm but you're gonna get blown about like a doll, Potter."

Though an insult, Flint's statement does speak some truth, although Harry swiftly counters, "Gryffindor's Seeker is lighter than me; I feel more sorry for her. What a way to have one's first match."

"Forget the Weasel and focus on us! Look, we'll try to score as soon as possible; should be easier to play a bit dirty in the storm," says Flint, before walking off down the corridor. As Harry carries on towards his next class, he can certainly hear the gale pounding against the castle's windows. Torrential rains pour down which only further unnerves him. Even worse are the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs who Harry occasionally passes in the corridors.

"Not gonna escape the storm, eh, pampered rich snakes?"

"Hope you don't scratch those fingernails, Potter, hahahaha."

"Better watch for Bludgers, shame."

Ron, in particular, makes a point to Harry upon passing him after the Gryffindors had just finished their Defence Against the Dark Arts class. "Ginny's played in bad weather at home before, so you don't stand a chance."

Harry turns to regard him with a bored look. "How'd Lupin go today?"

"We had Snape," replies Ron, whose statement takes Harry by surprise.

"Professor Snape? Why?" asks Harry.

"Because Lupin is off sick or something, I dunno. Anyway, your whole Quidditch team is going down tomorrow."

Before Ron can continue, Snape exits the classroom and hurriedly approaches Harry on the former's way out. "You'd better catch that snitch tomorrow, Potter. And I don't care about the weather."

"Yes, sir; will do!" responds Harry, sighing once Snape's far enough down the corridor.

"I'd hate having him as my head of House," says Ron, glancing at Snape in the distance.

"He's not too bad," admits Harry.

Saturday soon arrives, and Harry awakes to a buzz of excited chatter in the common room. After putting on his glasses, Harry's vision clears to spot none other than Yasmin standing at the couch while looking down at him. Her expression quite amused as she shakes her head.

"Wakey wakey, you're only 13, Harry. It's too early for you to sleep on the couch like a drunk," she says.

Her witty remark brings a laugh from Harry, who also takes the opportunity to glance appreciatively at her attractive features. He notes her sleek brunette hair tied in a lengthy ponytail today, dark brown eyes reflecting the glow of the nearby fireplace—

As Harry stands up, Yasmin casts a spell on his glasses. _"Impervius!"_

"What?" asks Harry, failing to notice any significant change.

"Let me demonstrate." Yasmin sticks her fingers into her mouth to whistle over a first-year girl drinking water. "What's your name, now again?"

"Monica," responds the girl, seemingly confused about being called over.

Yasmin smiles mischievously. "Alright, how would you like to throw that drink in Harry Potter's face?"

"What?!" gasps a baffled Harry.

"But why? He's too nice," says the youngster.

"Just this once; I think you'll both learn something here."

"Okay, but if anything goes wrong then I'm blaming you, Prefect." Monica looks at a wide-eyed Harry before tossing a goblet full of water in his face. Though his cheeks receive a splash, the rest are simply repelled off his glasses and splashed onto the girl.

"Aaa! What the heck?" exclaims Monica.

" _Impervius_  repels water and mist, and you just tap the intended object. Simple magic by fifth-year standards. There, don't say I never taught you little ones anything," says Yasmin, as Monica now scowls at the mess of water on her. Fortunately, Yasmin cleans it with _Tergeo_ before sending the girl on her way.

After having breakfast in the Great Hall, Harry leaves to link up with the team in the Entrance Hall.

"I hate this weather," admits Miles Bletchley, already geared up for the match (as is the rest of the team). They step out into a chilly downpour and race down the slopes en route to the Quidditch pitch a fair distance away. While running, Harry shivers but is grateful for his water-repellent glasses which provide essential visibility through today's windy storm. His robes billow out wildly, and he tries to stay in the centre of the team to afford himself some protection from the wind.

Ahead of Harry runs Flint, his voice inaudible over the strong winds pounding at the group's ears. Meanwhile, many students exit the castle under their umbrellas and make haste towards the Quidditch spectator stands in the distance. The sky appears grey with massive clouds blocking plenty of sunshine, a slight mist covering the distance. It would not be long before Harry finds himself in the locker room, at last, where Flint gives his final debriefing before their match.

"We have crap weather and are up against probably Gryffindor's best team in recent years. But don't let this get you boys down. Watch out for Bludgers today as those Weasley twins are in top form, I've heard. Montague and Warrington, watch where you throw the Quaffle. Wood's pretty determined to win their first Cup in many years now, so don't let him make your job even harder 'cos the wind's already doing that. Try and use the terrible conditions to trick him into committing to a hoop too early then place your shot."

The team nods, while Derrick and Bole receive their instructions to 'keep every darn Bludger off the team's arses'. Bletchley is then told to keep his eyes and brain open for trickery, and Flint now turns to Harry.

"If you go down, Potter, then we are screwed. Stay on your broom 'cos there ain't any rogue Bludgers this year, and for God's sake don't let the wind rattle you off-course."

Harry nods passionately, already feeling the pressure to succeed. Whether from his team, adoring fans, first-years eager to see their Seeker in action, or even from Snape earlier in the week, Harry knows that he cannot allow himself to fail today. As the team stands up from their seats, with brooms in hand, they can barely hear the chants over the gale winds outside.

"I think Wood's already walking out; let's go win for the green!" yells Flint, as seven Slytherins step out onto the pitch. Their nerves, pride, and determination offsetting the discomfort of such terrible weather. They glance across the pitch to see robes of scarlet already approaching the centre, and Madam Hooch standing at the ready. While the rest of the Slytherin team tries to keep their balance as they walk, Harry staggers forward through the stormy winds. He spots Ginny being held around her arm by one of the twins as she also struggles to keep her balance in the wind. Likewise, Bletchley holds Harry by the back of his robes, for now.

Soon, the Captains step forward to initiate their usual crushing handshake and glaring stares before being pushed apart by Hooch. And it's not long until Harry swings his leg over his Nimbus 2001 to mount the black broom while Ginny mounts her 2000. Both Seekers staring each other down through the downpour.

The whistle sounds, barely heard over these roaring winds as the teams take off. If Lee Jordan happens to be commentating here, then he's barely, if at all, heard through the thunderous storm gracing today's match.

 


	14. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin

_Quidditch: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, 1993._

Harry can hardly hear a thing, other than wind, while hovering across the pitch. Never before has he played such a terribly uncomfortable game of Quidditch in his life. Drenched robes, soaked hair, freezing cold shivers, and a slippery grip upon his broomstick makes him wish it could end already. A lapse in concentration nearly has him colliding with an approaching Bludger. Fortunately, Derrick swerves beside him to smash it towards Angelina Johnson who successfully evades while holding the Quaffle.

"WHAT'S THE SCORE?" asks a yelling Harry, barely hearing himself over the wind. But the Beater's lack of response before flying off shows he hadn't heard Harry at all. Slytherin's Seeker now flies along the edge of the pitch, passing various packed stands on his left, and keeps watch over the action on his right. Scarlet robes appear to be lining up in many formations as they once again release Katie Bell to shoot for goal.

As Harry flies past the commentators box he hears Jordan's amplified voice. "AND THAT'S A GOAL BY OUR KATIE, GOOD ON YOU, GIRL! GRYFFINDOR 70, SLYTHERIN 20."

Harry's heart races; somehow, Gryffindor are hammering them out here today. Pushing down on his Nimbus 2001, Harry urges the broom to fly just over half its top speed and knows that he desperately needs to spot the Snitch before it's too late. The Quidditch Cup is usually based on point totals and, unless he ends this game soon, Gryffindor could take quite a leap at the start of this season. Speeding away from the box, and with eyes desperately darting around for the Snitch, Harry catches one last bit of commentary before it's drowned out by the wind.

"THE TROLL—sorry, Professor McGonagall, I meant—FLINT SCORES! THAT BRINGS THE GAP BACK TO 40 BETWEEN THESE TWO!"

A thunderous roar sounds throughout the clouds above before a flash of lightning lights up the stands. So poor is visibility today that Harry had failed to notice the arrangement of lower-year students, with dark and light clothing schemes, forming a lightning-scar shape in support of their Seeker.

Try as he may, Harry still sees absolutely no sign of the Golden Snitch. Not even so much as a speck of gold in the air. He wonders where Ginny might be or, he fears, if she had seen it yet. Regrets soon building up at being foolish enough to hand over his old racing broom. But he carries on searching through the wind, torrential downpour, and the occasional Bludger whizzing by.

The action continues across the pitch as the Chasers position themselves for a shot at goal. Bludgers zip across the pitch from one Beater to another as each side attempts to smash their opponents to the grass. So gripping is the battle between Chasers that Harry finds himself trying to analyze their movements. That is, until a speck of black approaches in the corner of his eye.

In a split second decision, he swerves on the spot, raises his hands defensively, and is knocked off his broom. Falling what feels like 5 metres before landing near a puddle of mud, Harry soon picks himself up and hops back onto his broom. With no injuries sustained, and his robes mostly free of mud, he speeds off into the air. Still no sign of the Snitch as Harry wonders just how much time could've passed in this match so far.

Clueless as to the current score, he continues to scout out the perimeter of the pitch. Each glance upwards brings a torrent of rain on his cheeks while the cold downpour continuously soaks his hair and all manner of areas. Another flash of lightning illuminates the stands and brings the Gryffindors' banners of support into view, although many have been ripped away by the wind. Now hovering beside a stand and most likely out of sight, Harry tries to make the most of his partially sheltered spot. Narrowing his eyes, he takes in as much of the pitch as he can. Still no sign of his elusive target.

He decides to move inward once more, risking greater exposure to the Bludgers while searching around the pitch. Looking up, he rolls aside in the air as Flint, Warrington, and Montague zip past with Derrick and Bole flanking them. Following behind are Johnson, Spinnet, and Bell looking to reclaim the Quaffle once more. Naturally, this increases the chances of a Bludger attack which indeed occurs, although with Harry speeding off to evade.

More time passes by before Harry spots scarlet robes yet again. But with all three opposition Chasers and both Beaters behind him, and Wood too far off in the distance, Harry knows who this is. He pushes down on his broom towards the distant Ginny who, to his horror, appears to be chasing the Golden Snitch. The speck of gold still too far ahead to be caught.

Ginny's soaked hair billows about from her speed while the advantage of Harry's Nimbus 2001 brings him right up to her. Judging by the roaring crowd, it would seem that they've either seen or heard about this ensuing battle. Harry glances left as Ginny forcefully jostles against him, the gesture returned immediately. No playful smiles today as both Seekers glare at each other in the wind. Their hair blown back and cold robes soaked as the pair follow the little Snitch before them.

Just like their game of tag long ago, both Seekers utilize their skills in the air to pursue the Snitch instead. And it seems that Ron's taunting was more than just a bluff, as Harry realises that Ginny seems to be battling the wind better than him. Though both require tremendous effort to stay on course against the gale, Harry's lack of experience in such conditions becomes glaringly obvious.

For each second of him trying to adapt brings Ginny closer to the Snitch with Harry lagging behind. His heart races upon seeing her in the lead, hunched forward on her broom with scarlet robes blowing out behind her. The thought of playfully sneaking a look at her rain-soaked trousers from behind barely crosses Harry's mind. He needs to catch up but the struggles of steering straight demand his attention. "Come on, you can't be beaten by your predecessor," says Harry, pushing his broom to pick up speed and momentum.

The Snitch loops vertically, and now Harry's skill allows him to flip 180 degrees upwards and follow its path. Ginny manages to do to the same but ends up being a tad slower than her rival. With Harry in the lead he capitalises by pushing forward, mirroring the left, right, and downward dips of the Snitch. Yet scarlet robes remain in the corner of his eye and fast approaching. Today would be a solid reminder of skill and timing closing the deficit of sheer speed in Quidditch. Ginny seems to react faster on some occasions whereas Harry manages to outwit her on others.

The wind pounding his face, rain splashing all over, thunder clapping above, and heart racing with adrenaline, Harry now follows the Snitch in an upward climb. "What the hell?" he gasps, as it continues to climb. Higher and higher they go as Ginny follows in hot pursuit. Thunder roars once again as a cloud straight ahead lights up. Both Seekers hope for the best by covering their eyes and rolling different directions, right as a jolt of lightning strikes down. But it's, fortunately, a small one which misses either Seeker.

With a moment's danger passed, they converge behind the ascending snitch. Being far out of Madam Hooch's sight causes both Seekers to battle harder. Ginny barges into Harry who, in turn, raises his arm and elbows her in the shoulder. She probably yelps in some pain, although Harry can hardly hear over the wind. He then raises his arm and delivers a punch to her left shoulder again. But they continue to climb far above the pitch as the Snitch vanishes behind a layer of mist.

Both Seekers pause in the skies, trying to find their evasive target once more. Ginny looks left while Harry checks right, and ready to resort to punches again if need be. A flash of lightning above causes him to jerk his head up and gasp. There, above the clouds, comes the shape of...

"The Grim? No way," mutters Harry, before being elbowed aside as Ginny streaks past in pursuit of the Snitch. Livid to have been outsmarted yet again, Harry races ahead in a straight line. Using the Nimbus 2001's speed advantage, he soon catches up to Ginny who is literally inches from grabbing the Snitch. Pulling up on Ginny's left, Harry raises his right arm horizontally across his face, clenches his fist, then delivers a backhand blow to the front of her left shoulder. The dirty move proves effective in interrupting her speed as the Snitch moves ahead and turns.

Harry reckons they're somewhere unbelievably far above a corner of the pitch, Since the snitch cannot leave its horizontal boundaries. But height is probably limited to the skies itself as the Snitch turns a sharp angle, now heading right. He closes in, punches Ginny yet again, then takes the lead. Feeling little remorse for his actions, Harry leans forward to apply as much speed as possible but soon finds himself staring down at his broomstick.

Its black scheme, with Nimbus 2001 elegantly inscribed, begins coating itself in a thin layer of ice. Glancing over his shoulder, Harry spots his old broom being affected as well. And for a brief moment he feels strange indeed, as if the feeling of being able to love has just vanished. Ginny soon screams almost hysterically.

"What?!" exclaims Harry, now seeing her looking straight at him. Those brown eyes filled with fear and, possibly, hatred.

"GET AWAY FROM ME, TOM! I'M NOT LETTING YOU TAKE ME!"

She charges forward on her broom and punches Harry twice in the shoulder before pushing him aside. After recovering from the assault, Harry looks up and gasps as he thinks it's all over. Ginny hovers right before the Snitch, its golden body half an arm's length and easy enough for even the worst of Seekers to swipe.

"Damn it; can't believe this!" he mutters, being too far to close the distance and stop her now. But one look towards her sees Ginny's attention no longer on the Snitch. She's staring at him, almost manically.

"SCREW YOU, TOM! I-I'M NOT A WEAK LITTLE GIRL!" She speeds away from the Snitch and tries to grab at an utterly shocked Harry's throat.

"GET OFF ME, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? IS THIS A BLOODY JOKE?" Harry battles to break Ginny's grip while also trying to maintain his own hold upon the Nimbus 2001. Tears roll down Ginny's cheeks, swiftly blown off by the wind as Harry finally swipes away her hand. Glancing ahead for the Snitch, he takes off and rolls over to fly on Ginny's right. To his horror, she swerves in pursuit; her little hand reaching out to grab at Harry once more.

"I'M NOT GOING BACK DOWN THERE; I'M NOT GONNA KILL THE 'IMPURE' STUDENTS WITH YOUR SNAKE!"

"The bloody hell, crap, what the fu—" Harry finds himself unable to even think up a proper sentence as Ginny grabs at his robes. "I'm not Tom!" he almost pleads at the crazed, livid, and even tearful youngster. And for a moment, she looks up at him, horrified.

"H-Harry, what's going on? W-Where's the Snitch?"

"Over there! But what are yo—"

"NOOO! GET AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE! I DON'T WANT YOUR DIARY!" Ginny shrieks, having returned to her earlier craze.

"Screw this! Are all you chicks so goddamn crazy? Why are y—" And now he sees them, coming up from behind both Seekers: a dozen black, hooded figures sailing through the clouds towards the rival pair. "Ginny! Listen to me, I'm not Tom! It's gotta be those things... the Dementors!"

She doesn't listen and merely lifts both hands to clutch at her head. The gesture perilously bringing her off-balance but, thankfully, her instincts cause her to grab at the broom once more. Yet the Dementors close in from behind, close enough to begin quieting the wind in Harry's ears.

Ginny looks to her right once more, her eyes fixed upon Harry. "YOU'RE NOT TAKING ME! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!"

He opens his mouth to respond but stares in disbelief. A voice rings in his ear...

_"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—"_ says the female voice inside Harry's head, his mind swirling with white mist. And yet the voice continues.  _"Not Harry! Please... have mercy...have mercy—"_

The skies begin to darken. Silence begins filling Harry, overriding the howling winds and thunderous storms. Black, hooded figures close in just metres from the two Seekers.

No longer hysterical, Ginny begins frantically sobbing, tears bursting forth as she places both hands atop her broom. Looking down, she simply flies on, her soaked red hair falling across her face. But in Harry's head, a shrill voice seemingly laughs, manically. A woman screams, and Harry feels his eyes closing. His grip now loosening around the Nimbus 2001. He tries so hard to think of anything besides the approaching darkness. Yet the Dementors continue to affect him, bringing their horrifying recollections of the screaming woman.

_"Not Harry! Please... have mercy...have mercy!"_

Harry's vision darkens yet again. But just seconds later, the wind howls in his ears once more and the skies shine its usual grey. Harry swiftly glances left at Ginny as she's about to slip off her broom. That is, unless Harry can find some way to save her once again. But with Dementors now metres behind him, Harry knows there's only one way to end this. Ruing his luck, Harry glances down at his black broomstick. "I'm so sorry, new girl." He climbs off his Nimbus 2001 and watches in despair as it spins away into the distance. Placing his feet as best as he can at Ginny's, Harry reaches forward to grip the Nimbus 2000. Between his left arm and the broomstick sits Ginny, whimpering like a little child.

Sharing a broom with a little Gryffindor is not something Harry's done before. He holds her close, red hair blowing against his green robes as she continues to sob; her tears now adding to his already soaked clothing. The brave little Seeker, who had just earlier been fighting for the Snitch, now reduced to a sobbing youngster.

While streaking through the storm, Harry follows the gradual turn of the Snitch ahead. "The things I do for people, fine. If this helps you stay cosy for a little while longer..." He swiftly looks down to place a firm kiss on her forehead.

The gesture causes Ginny to lean against Harry's chest as he slaloms until the Snitch nears him in the skies. There's not much time and he knows it; the woman's scream gradually building up once again. With one last push, and gambling on releasing his right arm around Ginny, Harry reaches to swipe the feisty little ball of gold; its wings fluttering about in his grasp.  

"Oh shit, why is it ALWAYS me—" All Harry can see through the sudden darkness is the Nimbus 2000 hovering above, and Ginny trying to regain control. The stormy rain pounds against Harry's face, and he soon freefalls through the skies with dozens of Dementors diving in pursuit.

Flailing helplessly in the air, all Harry can see are seemingly endless clouds until the Quidditch pitch comes into view. Shrieks of horror sound in the distance, and the woman's screams grow louder as the skies darken...


	15. Weekend Chats

_Hospital Wing, Saturday, November 6th, 1993._

Voices speak in hushed tones all around Harry, and yet he barely recognises a few of them. With his glasses off and eyes still shut, he tries to bring himself out of his groggy state; a trying task indeed.

"I believe Harry is waking up," says Dumbledore, seconds before the blurry figure of Pansy rushes to slip on Harry's glasses. Looking around, the latter sees a fairly bright Hospital Wing in which quite a crowd has gathered around his bed. Most notably are Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, Pansy Parkinson, and a taller woman with her dark hair styled in a bun...

"This is my mom, and I demanded that she finally visit," says Pansy, eagerly gesturing towards the dark-haired woman dressed in black robes nearby.

With a slight, formal bow of the head, Mrs. Parkinson introduces herself. "Holly Parkinson. I must say that it's a pleasure to finally meet my daughter's esteemed friend."

Elsewhere, Harry spots Ginny laying peacefully asleep in bed while surrounded by some of her family. He spots the twins, Ron, Percy, and their parents who Harry has yet to properly meet.

"I assume we can all keep things civil for the sake of the children?" asks Dumbledore, standing beside McGonagall at Harry's hospital bed.

"Certainly, Headmaster," replies Mrs. Parkinson, flashing the same smile Harry occasionally sees on Pansy: polite and yet fairly mischievous. Mrs. Parkinson now stands with her right hand on Pansy's shoulder, the latter beaming at finally having her mother at school. "Now, if you could please ask Mrs. Weasley to stop being so aggressive towards me, Professor..."

"And I'd appreciate if you could keep it down a bit so my daughter can get her rest," says Mrs. Weasley, standing right beside Ginny. "Just so you know,  _my_  daughter speaks a lot about Harry Potter too. He is well-known, after all."

"Cease these hostilities at once, both of you," says Dumbledore, quelling the arguments (which Harry's likely slept through) between mothers.

"Ahem, you must be Harry Potter; it's a real pleasure to meet you!," says Mr. Weasley, happily shaking Harry's hand. "I'm Arthur Weasley, and this here's my lovely wife, Molly."

"Pleased to meet you too, sir—" But Harry's words are cut off as Mr. Weasley seemingly bursts forth with a question.

"Oh no... Dad's been wanting to speak to you for a  _long_  time, Potter," says Ron, who is quickly reprimanded by his mother.

"He's got a name which I'd like you to use, Ronald," says Mrs. Weasley, giving a stern glare across the bed to a red-faced Ron.

"So, Harry, can you tell me: what  _exactly_  is the function of a rubber duck?" asks Mr. Weasley rather excitedly. The question seemingly, and totally, catching Harry off-guard. All he can do is stare at Mr. Weasley while laying beneath the blanket.

"I, uh—"

"It floats on water," replies Mrs. Parkinson, and Pansy now winks at Harry as if to say 'I told you we know about Muggle stuff.'

Grinning with curiosity, and for a moment overlooking her Death Eater history, Mr. Weasley swiftly turns to point at Pansy's mother. "Ah, but you see, surely it's gotta be more than that! There must be some further purpose, something greater—"

"Arthur," calls Mrs. Weasley, now shaking her head at his conversing with Mrs. Parkinson.

Loud footsteps suddenly approach the hospital wing as the rest of Slytherin's Quidditch team noisily enters, much to Madam Pomfrey's annoyance. They stride down the passage between beds before shoving their way towards Harry. Fred, George, and Arthur Weasley are among those 'politely' nudged aside as the team of green walks briskly.

"See, mum?" asks Fred.

"No manners at all, and you say we're bad!" adds George.

"Bunch of hooligans, I swear," mumbles Percy.

"Hello there, lads," greets Mr. Weasley, though scoffed at by the team. They now barge past Mrs. Parkinson whose smile fades to a neutral expression.

"Don't push my mom out the way! Have some respect," scolds Pansy, standing before Harry's bed while looking up at a confident Flint.

"We're here to see our Seeker, so move, pipsqueak," says the Captain, failing to notice the frantic tapping on his arm by Miles Bletchley.

"Apologize, or else," warns a glaring Pansy, regardless of being quite smaller than Flint.

"Or else what?" Flint turns to look at Bletchley. "What?!"

The Keeper points towards Mrs. Parkinson who tilts her head, smiles, and scratches at her left arm. As the gesture merely serves to pull up her sleeve, Harry spots a faded red, tattoo-like mark on her inner forearm. Flint and essentially the entire team steps back, now standing together near Ginny's bed.

An upset McGonagall finally speaks after having kept quiet for awhile, "Shame on you, Parkinson. Using the Mark to scare children!"

"I was merely scratching my arm, nothing more," says Mrs. Parkinson, dropping her sleeve to her wrist once more. She also playfully winks down at her giggling daughter as Harry hears hushed whispers nearby.

"Why are you snakes scared of the Mark?" asks a confused Fred.

"Not scared, just cautious. Not all of us have such folks, y'know," replies Bole, their conversation soon turning to insults at each other's Beater abilities.

"Sorry; won't happen again, ma'am," says Flint on behalf of the team. Pansy appears smug as her mother seemingly forgives the earlier shove.

"Well, now that everything's fine, I'll be in my office," says Dumbledore calmly, soon followed by McGonagall.

"Perhaps I should take my leave, or would you care to sit down with me outside? Not embarrassed to be with mommy dearest, are we?" asks Mrs. Parkinson.

Pansy shakes her head quite adamantly. "Not at all; I'd love that! How long are you gonna be staying?"

"Another half hour, perhaps." Both Parkinsons soon exit the Hospital Wing, leaving Harry with his team and some of the Weasleys gathered nearby.

"What was the score, by the way?" asks Harry, with an apprehensive look. In the far end of the room, Madam Pomfrey warns them to be quiet and to avoid starting a fight over a 'simple game'.

"Darn close match, I must say, was about 120 to Gryffindor and 70 to us before you caught it. So 220 - 120 victory for the boys in green," says Flint, his statement overheard by those standing nearby.

"Our girls took charge, eh Fred?"

"You know it."

"But we still won, thanks to our main man over here," says Flint, now looking at the smirking Weasley twins. "I think Potter deserves a few more points to his man-level today."

"What the hell is a 'man-level'?" asks a bewildered Harry, while occasionally glancing right to see the sleeping Ginny fussed over by her parents.

"It's the level of man-ness in a man. Not everyone can be so scared of Dementors and then catch a Snitch in the clouds while flying with 'em. 50 Points to your manliness, Potter," declares Flint.

"Just ignore him; he's making up nonsense again," says Derrick, standing beside a nodding Bole.

"But, uh, you might wanna talk to Malfoy. He's not exactly looking too pleased now," says Montague, standing beside Warrington (who's behind Flint).

"Why? What happened?" asks Harry.

"We were hoping you could tell us what in heck happened up there," says Flint. His statement now catching the Weasleys' attention too.

"Professor Dumbledore was just here; wouldn't he know what happened?" asks Harry.

"Yeah, and he wasn't too pleased about it. You're lucky the old man slowed your fall with his spell; otherwise, you'd be splattered across the pitch," says Flint.

With all eyes and ears on him, Harry clears his throat before explaining while, naturally, leaving out certain confidential details. "...Ginny went crazy up there, absolutely bonkers..." Harry again omits key details of Tom Marvolo Riddle, and instead blames it on pure fear induced by the Dementors. "...I swear, she tried to throttle me off my broom and started crying like a little baby..."

The Slytherin team laughs, although stopping to let Harry continue.

"...So, I ended up getting onto my old Nimbus and catching the Snitch; it was either that or she falls down. But I guess Professor Dumbledore would've just caught her anyway..."

Flint scoffs. "Yeah, he would've. And then you'd still have your new broom."

"What do you mean?" asks Harry.

"It's finished, man; the Whomping Willow tore it to bits and firewood," states Bletchley, and Harry's heart sinks. Looks of sympathy coming from everyone around him. Just minutes later, Draco Malfoy comes rushing into the room while carrying a sack of Harry's destroyed Nimbus 2001.

"Potter!" he calls, now passing by his teammates.

"We'll let you boys handle this; but you'd better have something worthwhile before our next training session," says Flint, looking at Harry. He signals the team to leave as Draco dumps the sack on Harry's bed. Bits of twigs and wrecked black wood spilling out.

Draco immediately glares upon looking to his left. "Who invited these peasants?"

"Shut up, Malfoy. Your father ain't here to hold your hand. Darn, is that a smashed Nimbus 2001?" asks a shocked Ron.

"None of your business," says a sneering Draco. "Your whole home, and everyone inside, could explode but still cost less to replace than this broom."

"Arrogant litt—"

"Fred, George, sit down. Don't get yourselves into trouble over a little thug like him," says Mrs. Weasley calmly. "Let him say his say. We're here for Ginny, remember?"

"Yes, mum," the twins respond.

Meanwhile, Mr. Weasley approaches to stand beside Harry bed, a slight distance from the sneering Draco while speaking. "Good lord, now this is quite a costly wreck indeed. Who bought it?"

"Who do you think? My father bought 'em for the whole team. Or did your many children not mention it enough times to sink in at home?" asks Draco. Harry now sits upright in bed, and leans forward to inspect the wreckage of his broom as Draco continues to speak. "Judging by the Weasel having safely landed, I assume you got all heroic up there? Well, guess what? She's still got your Nimbus 2000 intact."

Harry turns to glance at the sleeping Ginny but refuses to reclaim his gift. "I'm not taking it back from her; sorry, Malfoy."

And in that moment, Harry instantly earns himself a tad more respect in the eyes of the Weasleys.

"Wasn't expecting you to. Far too soft-hearted, Potter. Anyway, my father w—" Draco glances at the door in surprise as both Hermione and Pansy storm into the room, ignoring the warnings of Madam Pomfrey, to rush to Harry's bed.

"I know what you're here for, Draco, but have a little mercy on Harry. He nearly died up there," she pleads. The entire exchange between these Slytherins now being watched by the Weasleys.

"My father never got any mercy at the shop. Doesn't take Arithmancy to calculate the costs of setting up the team, you know. Equipping 8 players with one of these"—he points to the wrecked Nimbus—"was about 4000 galleons".

"FOUR THOUSAND?!" yells Ron, causing a livid Madam Pomfrey to grab him by the scruff of his neck. But some kind words from Mrs. Weasley, while battling to settle down her bewildered family, has Pomfrey letting them stay.

"Peasants always make noise, pfft. Anyway, you  _can_  count, right, Potter?" asks Draco, now glancing with folded arms towards Harry. "And shut it already, Parkinson."

"But you're already so rich," pleads Pansy.

"A real wizard pays their debts," replies Draco.

"You talking about your father and Azkaban?" asks one of the twins, his comment ignored by Draco.

Harry sighs. "It's okay, Pansy. I'm not exactly poor either, so I take it I owe... 500 galleons?"

 "Yeah, but another 20 per day if I don't get it by Tuesday," says Draco, strutting out the hospital wing.

Meanwhile, Ron pipes up from beside Ginny's bed. "So much for _friendship_. You see? This is why you should've came to Gryffindor."

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, I've spoken to you about this before. Now, apologize to Harry at once," orders a scowling Mrs. Weasley.

"Sorry," mutters Ron, although not sounding sincere at all.

Mr. Weasley approaches Harry's bed, with a look of pity. "That's a man's debt there, Harry. If there's anything we can do to help— I mean, you've done real good for our Ginny, and not just today—"

"And she never stops speaking about him at home. You can't forget that part, dad," says George.

"—right you are, Fred! Now, I'm sure Percy can organise somethi—"

"Father, I'm not even working yet; unlike you, supposedly!" argues Percy indignantly. His snide remark earning him a glare from his mother.

But Harry merely shrugs and replies, "I can pay that, no sweat. Might have to see about getting a replacement broom, though."

"Can you now? Well, that settles that. Good on you, Harry," says Mr. Weasley quite proudly. Barely an hour with them has already made Harry quite accepting of the Weasleys, barring a few ones such as Ronald. Eventually, Hermione walks towards Harry after having placed herself in a corner to avoid unnecessary confrontations with Draco.

"Goodness, Harry; are you okay?" she asks, standing right beside a smiling Harry as the latter speaks.

"As 'okay' as can be after plummeting to near death from the sky, yep."

"You probably used something like the Impervius Charm, right? I was wondering how you even saw through such a terrific storm," says Hermione.

"That's correct, but one of our Prefects did it," says Harry, looking over his shoulder as Ginny finally awakes to quite a fuss from her mother. Regardless of Ginny's insistence of "I'm fine, mum!", Mrs. Weasley continues to lament the decision to have her youngest fly in such terrible conditions; not to mention the blatant attack by the Dementors.

"I'm gonna get some rest," says Harry, and Madam Pomfrey swiftly insists that he stay right here for most of the weekend. Shutting his eyes, he sees the warm smile of Hermione and hears the Weasleys chatting among one another while he falls asleep. Presumably, Pansy walks over to remove his glasses and place them on the bedside table.

Throughout his stay over the weekend, Harry receives gifts from Hagrid, Daphne, Sally-Anne, Millicent, Tracey, Pansy, Hermione and Ginny. To his surprise, he even receives a note from Professor Snape with regards to keeping the Nimbus 2000 intact. And that he is expected back in class as soon as the week starts.

Visitors stream in throughout the weekend, and Harry has no issue with it mainly being girls. Of course, folks like Theodore Nott wouldn't give a damn about him in hospital although Zabini does at least pop in for a short chat. Crabbe and Goyle, as usual, seem to follow Draco everywhere. The Carrow twins also happen to pay Harry a visit on Sunday, and they bring along a fairly good helping of chocolate frogs. To their amusement, it just so happens that he finds a card of himself in one box. With his afternoon free, Harry decides upon visiting Professor Lupin at the man's office, as requested.

Their conversation picks up surprisingly easy even for Harry, as Lupin regards him in the kindest manner he's received from a Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. What starts out as a chat on academics eventually culminates in Harry wondering why he wasn't allowed to face the Boggart in September's lessons.

Lupin resumes drinking his tea while speaking. "The answer to that should be fairly obvious, Harry,"

"I'm stumped, sir."

"Let's just say that I didn't want Lord Voldemort going around the classroom," says Lupin, setting his teacup upon its saucer.

"What makes you think I'm scared of him? I detest him, hate 'em for what he's done!" argues Harry, his usual smile having faded.

"If only all Slytherins could say that; so, what would you have expected from the Boggart then?"

"I'm not sure, really," says Harry, "Perhaps a Dementor might've popped out from the cupboard?"

Lupin ponders this response before speculating that Harry's Boggart might be fear in itself. Their conversation on Dementors continues without interruption and eventually settles upon yesterday's Quidditch match.

"I'm sorry about your broomstick, Harry, and I also hear you're in a bit of debt now?"

"500 Galleons yes."

Lupin whistles and gives a rather unexpected comment. "Shouldn't be too much for the son of James—"

"You knew my dad?" asks Harry, as excited as he's ever been before. "The way you said his name makes me wonder..."

"I might've, but let's discuss that some other time." Lupin shakes his head at Harry's continued insistence on inquiring about his father.

"But, Profess—"

"No  _buts_ , Harry. But do tell me exactly what happened up there that made you fall?" asks Lupin, knowing that Ginny had also been quite affected during the train ride earlier this year.

Harry proceeds to explain (once again omitting Tom Marvolo Riddle) all about what had occurred and what he'd done to salvage the situation.

"That was awfully brave of you indeed. Are we sure those House colours are correct on your robes?" asks Lupin with a smile, although failing to understand the sudden change in Harry's mood.

"Please don't say that, sir," replies Harry quite abruptly.

"I suppose you must have heard that quite a lot, eh?" asks Lupin.

"Yeah, often in my own head too."

"I see, well, forgive me for the poor joke." To lighten the mood, Lupin proceeds to explain about how the Whomping Willow was planted in his time, and how students would often try and touch its trunk, often resulting in injuries. "Silly times those were."

He also comments on Dumbledore's fury at the Dementors invading Harry's match, most likely due to the mass of positive emotions having attracted those 'foulest creatures around'. The topic of Dementors seems to go down rather well with Harry, who seems eager to learn as much about them as possible.

"...and if I hadn't found your compartment in time, it would've attempted what is called the Dementor's Kiss," says Lupin, proceeding to explain all about the effects of said ability.

"I think it's my mum's final moments which seems to play in my head near those things," says Harry, the topic now pausing before he recalls Lupin having performed some sort of spell to repel that one Dementor.

"Exactly, that was only one Dementor, Harry; any more of them and such defences would be difficult to sustain—"

Harry nearly stands up from his seat in anticipation. "What defences? I need to know! Because if they invade another match, then am I just gonna fall off my broom again? What about Ginny? You can't expect us t—"

"Relax, Harry. Firstly, I'll have you know that it'll be impossible for a second year to pull such a spell off. Something will have to be done for her, and it will not be to Oliver Wood's liking," says Lupin sternly.

"You're saying that she'll have to quit the team? But that's not fair! She's a darn good Seeker who spotted the Snitch before me, and in rubbish weather, no less," argues Harry, surprised at his own defensiveness over the little redhead.

"Look, as fun as it is to see the two of you together,  _no_  is  _no_. I'll teach you alone, Harry," says Lupin, his stern expression suggesting little room for negotiation.

"Fine, so when can we start, Professor? I need to show people that I'm not afraid of those things. I'm the  _King of Slytherin_  for crying out loud! Can't afford to show weakness," says a sighing Harry, shoving aside his emptied teacup.

"Oh, I'm sorry, but what did you just call yourself?" asks an amused Lupin. "Anyway, it's not weakness when you have horrors such in your past; so don't blame yourself."

"Let's go; let's start with the lesson," insists Harry, drawing his wand and rolling his wrist in preparation.

"I'm afraid it'll have to be after the holidays, Harry; there's a lot on my mind at the moment, truly."

Harry sits upright in his chair, glancing worriedly at Lupin, "What's wrong? Are you sick? Do you need some medicine, sir?"

"Heh, don't worry about it," says Lupin, with an expression of both need and scornful derision. "It's nothing our resident Potions Master can't handle; he brews quite well, you see. Keeps me going with his concoctions indeed."

Having had personal experience with getting Snape's aid before, Harry nods. "You're right. He may not be the kindest person but Professor Snape sure knows what he's doing."

"Agreed, very much so. Well then, Harry, I'll see what I can do in the meantime to prepare for your lessons. Just don't go advertising it to everyone, okay?" asks Lupin, sitting content behind his desk.

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir," says Harry, standing up and eagerly shaking a grinning Lupin's hand.

"You're an interesting Slytherin, I'll give you that. Those girls treating you well?"

"Oh yes, most definitely," replies Harry. "Best bunch of troublemaking pals a guy could ask for, truly."

"And I hear you're quite close with Hermione Granger as well? Must be a mission trying to justify that friendship with your peers."

"Draco Malfoy said he's done 'trying to talk sense' into me about that," says Harry, "so, he just looks disgusted when I speak with Hermione. However, I don't tolerate excess crap from anyone with regards to me and my Granger. It's fun letting Draco walk his walk, and talk his talk, so that he thinks he's the big fish around Slytherin."

"Be very cautious around the Malfoys, Harry; they're just as likely to fool you as you might fool them." Lupin now walks with Harry towards the office door. "As I'm sure you're aware of, it was Lucius Malfoy who so slyly spoke himself out of Azkaban years back. Come on, it doesn't take much of a brain to figure out that the Ministry's 'treasured ally' was right up in Voldemort's Death Eater circle. Pfft, slimebag that he is. Anyway, it was nice chatting to you, little James; I look forward to our upcoming practice lessons."

"And I look forward to hearing about my parents someday, Professor Lupin."


	16. A Granger Favour

Following a weekend spent mostly in the Hospital Wing, Harry feels truly grateful to be back in classes on a cold, wet Monday morning. Everything simply flies by until it's time for another Potions class (which Harry's always shared with the Gryffindors). Upon entering Snape's classroom, the third-year Slytherins overhear their Gryffindor classmates complaining about last Friday's Defence Against the Dark Arts class. That day, Snape had given them a surprise lecture on werewolves (which the Slytherins never got, seeing as they don't have Defence Against the Dark Arts on Fridays).

But Harry's group merely scoffs at this, wondering why Snape would skip ahead to werewolves so early. Perhaps he's just spiting Gryffindor as usual? Regardless, everyone soon takes their seats as Professor Snape enters the classroom to begin their lesson on the Girding Potion. For many students, it proves to be a fairly challenging brew which barely meets Snape's expectations. Harry and Hermione, however, power through this class and end up brewing quite decent potions by the halfway mark of this lesson. To their surprise, Snape permits them to leave remarkably earlier for their quality of work (which baffles the rest of the students as this has probably never happened before).

"Man, there's still over half an hour till our next class starts!" says Harry, "I've got Divination, and you've got..."

"Defence Against the Dark Arts," says Hermione, standing in the dungeon corridor beside a hopeful Harry.

"Would it be too much for this Slytherin to ask his Mugglebabe for a few minutes of hanging out?" asks Harry, placing his palms together in a pleading gesture. "How do you even cope with that mental timetable of yours? Man, I sure do miss the old days when you actually had more time for poor little me. Now you're like Moaning Myrtle when asked to hang out during the week, and even some weekends too! Hmph, I should call you Haughty Hermione."

"There's no need to get so overdramatic, Harry," says Hermione, raising a brow while folding her arms. " _Haughty Hermione_? Seriously? Ugh, you know what? The things I do to salvage more time with you..." She fiddles about with her shirt collar before smiling. "I think I might've left something in class, could you check?"

Harry instantly obliges and enters the Potions classroom once more.

"What is it, Potter?" asks Snape, standing quite irritably in the centre of his struggling class while Harry fumbles around Hermione's workstation.

"Just checking if there's something forgotten around here, sir."

Snape allows barely a minute before adding: "Can't find anything? Then get out, Potter."

Not looking for trouble with Snape, Harry bolts out the classroom to approach a smiling Hermione in the corridor . "Hey, there's nothing in there!"

"Oh, my bad. So, would you like to hang out now?"

Harry almost leaps for joy at the offer. "Heck yes, but for how long?"

"Until your next class, of course."

"What? No way you'd make it in time," says Harry, recalling the massive distance between Divination and Classroom 3C.

"Ugh, Hinkypunks are so dull. Who'd be dumb enough to get lured into a bog anyway?" asks Hermione. But she swiftly keeps quiet as Harry turns to glance most confusedly at her.

"The hell do you already know about them? You Gryffindors are only set to have that lecture in your next class."

"I—uh—well... I've read up on them, of course! It's in the textbook, silly," responds Hermione, with a surprisingly shaky tone to her voice as they exit the dungeons.

"Pfft, Know-It-All." Minutes later, Harry's suddenly stopped by Hermione once they're about halfway up the Grand Staircase. "What's the deal, my lovely Granger?"

"I've just realized something..." Hermione turns to look at Harry and beams with a smile. "There's nobody in the common room now; even Peeves never comes this time. And since the Fat Lady's gone, we have an idiot guarding our portrait!"

"Oh yeah, I heard Sir Cadogan was the only one brave enough for the job."

"He's an absolute nutcase, and that's putting it lightly. So, take off your robes, Harry, and I'll give you my tie."

"What?"

"The Fat Lady's annoying but not stupid. Cadogan, however, won't even realize you're not with us. Without those Slytherin robes, and with a Gryffindor tie, he'd be completely fooled," says Hermione happily.

"Hold on, I think I know where this is going." Harry swiftly looks at her, and places his hands on Hermione's shoulders. "You're taking a big risk for someone who called you 'haughty'."

She remains smiling nonetheless. "Hey, I've had over two years to grow accustomed to your dramatic speeches, Mister Potter."

Harry swiftly removes his robes, leaving him with the generic shirt and trousers uniform. Off goes his Slytherin tie, shoved into his pocket, before he slips on and sniffs Hermione's scarlet and red one. "I do love your perfume, Miss Granger."

They now approach Sir Cadogan as he guards the entrance to the Gryffindor common room on the 7th floor landing.

"Who goes there? Stand and fight! Two on one shall not fell me—" His words cut short as Hermione mutters a password so silly that Harry barely remembers it at all. "Very well then, lady and sir, proceed!"

Harry's heart races as he stands, transfixed, within the very place which had housed his parents for seven years at school. An atmosphere vastly different to that of Slytherin's common room indeed; its cosy interior and warm colour scheme makes Harry feel both at home and yet strangely uneasy. But while Harry tries to take in as much as he can during his brief stay, Hermione negotiates with the few portraits hung about.

All it takes is knowing that Harry had pulled the sword from the hat last year, and the portraits now opt to overlook his intrusions. After all, it's no secret among the Gryffindor portraits that summoning the sword of Godric Gryffindor requires tremendous traits of courage, determination, and all things associated with their House.

"Well, Harry, make yourself comfortable for the next 30 minutes," says Hermione softly, her smile mirroring the warm atmosphere of the room.

"But next class starts in 20."

"Meh, don't worry about me, I'm already sorted with Defence."

"You're skiving class? The great Miss Granger?"

"Like I said, don't think about it. We've just gotta get you out of here by 2:10" says Hermione.

"Why such a specific time? We're both gonna be late for class—"

"Oh hush. So long as you bugger off in time and I get to that empty classroom before 2:20, there's nothing to worry about." Hermione gives him a quick tour of the common room itself. "But uh, you can't go through there," she says, pointing to the girls' dormitory staircase.

"Oh yeah? Watch me, babe. I've always wanted to see your room; might even lay in your bed!" Harry barges into the girls' side and sprints up their staircase. To his complete shock, a siren wails around him before the staircase transfigures itself to a slippery slope. "What the—? Bloody H—" He slides, face down, all the way back to being thrown out into the common room. 

"I told you; but nooo you wouldn't listen," says Hermione, clutching at her sides while overcome with fits of laughter. Eventually, she decides upon helping Harry to his feet before leading him towards a couch near the fireplace. "I do so enjoy sitting here when it's not too crowded."

"Everything seems so lovely around here, really." Harry cannot help but constantly glance around, picturing how his parents might have spent their days in here. But at the same time, he also feels a growing sense of unease within him, starting from his scar.

"What's wrong, Harry? You seem a bit anxious? Is this all... a bit of a shock? Too much to handle so suddenly? I'm sorry for the unexpected decision." Hermione grasps his hand as Harry stands before her, then lets him lay across the couch.

While laying face up on her lap, and looking up at the smiling Granger, Harry sighs. "I can't describe this feeling, Hermione. As lovely as the common room I never thought I'd see happens to be, there's something else... I got this odd feeling, this...nagging in my head."

"There are no Dementors here, you know."

"No, not voices, nothing like that. It's just this uneasiness. Does your common room have any anti-non-Gryffindor student enchantments or something?" asks Harry, feeling increasingly uneasy by the minute.

"Never! Besides the Fat Lady, or Sir Cadogan in recent times, and our passwords, nothing keeps another House out. And I've read  _Hogwarts: A History_  from cover to cover. You sure you don't need a nap, perhaps?" Hermione now grins mischievously. "You might not get another chance to do so on  _my_ lap in  _my_ common room."

"No way I can sleep now, something's urging me to get the hell out of here." Harry swiftly sits up on Hermione's lap, nearly colliding with her head. "What's wrong with me?!"

She stares at the anxious boy before her, close enough for a tight hug. "Have you eaten something unsettling, perhaps? This isn't how I pictured your first experience of my common room to be, Harry."

And as Harry looks to his right, inches from her face, he tries to calm down. Whatever seems to be agitating him here in the home of Gryffindor steadily eases as he gazes fondly at Hermione. "So, my Granger, how much time do we have left before we need to 'bugger off' as you said?"

"Just under 30 minutes still," says a yawning Hermione,. "Oh gosh, I'm never doing this again, not even for you."

Harry lays back down and glances curiously at a strangely tired Hermione. "Do what? Sneak me into the common room?"

"Hmm? Oh yes, that's right." Another yawn escapes her before Hermione now rubs at her surprisingly sleepy eyes, which Harry hadn't seen before.

"The hell? What made you so tired? You were nice and perky in Potions?"

"I assume by 'perky' you meant  _lively_ and  _energetic_? And not the usual stuff you speak?" she asks cheekily.

"Haha, yeah, it's not what you think," says Harry, enjoying the feel of a warm fire heating them up, and the cosiness of Hermione's lap. "If you're really so tired, why don't we swap and I let  _you_ take a nap?"

"No can do, sorry," says Hermione firmly.

"I hope you've got a good excuse for being so late for class, dunno what I'll say to Trelawney."

"Divination is such rubbish, seriously. It's a lot of guesswork and a real waste of  _my_   _time_ ," replies Hermione, now deciding upon stroking Harry's hair as he lays across her lap.

"If I had a Galleon every time Trelawney gave me a sad look, or reminded me of the Grim... I'd probably gather enough to— oh crap."

"What?" asks Hermione worriedly.

"I, uh, kinda forgot about my debt to Malfoy, hahaha!"

"Just use a Gringotts cheque," says an amused Hermione, shaking her head at Harry's forgetfulness.

"Great idea! Oh hey, look who it is, over here, boy!" says Harry, his eyes following Hermione's bushy cat prowling across the common room.

"Crookshanks! Say hello to our guest. You do remember him, right? If not, then I can't blame you," says Hermione.

"Poor fella can't even remember who I am. When did we meet, now again?"

"Once on the train, and that's it. Because your prejudiced pals wouldn't even let you enter my compartment," sighs Hermione. Yet Crookshanks glances over at Harry, and narrows its eyes. "Oh dear, I forgot to tell you that he's half-Kneazle; very smart boy indeed."

"He probably knows that I shouldn't be in here; oh no, here he comes," says Harry, watching Crookshanks race to leap atop him. "Hey, I'm a good friend of your owner, kitty. Don't mean her any harm."

As if appraising Harry, Crookshanks glances up at a smiling Hermione to Harry laid across her lap. After giving off a meow, he curls up on Harry's chest.

"Aww, I think he likes you," says Hermione, before yawning widely yet again. "I hope you're not hunting Scabbers again, Crookshanks."

The thought of getting one at Ronald makes Harry grin in delight. "C'mon, Crooky, let's go catch us a Weasley rat!"

"Harry James Potter, you stay right here, Mister!" says Hermione, groaning as Harry and Crookshanks leap off the couch. "What have you got against Ron's rat anyway?"

"Rats themselves are disgusting, and Ronald's been a git ever since first-year. Payback time!" He follows an excited Crookshanks towards the boys' dormitories entrance.

"That's not going to wooork," says Hermione, with an amused grin. "Ron carries his pet with him, on occasion. Besides, I still don't understand what exactly irks you about Ron; he's helped us out at times, remember?"

"Don't care; I just feel like messing up Ronald's room. C'mon kitty cat, let's go tear stuff up!"

"Meow!"

"If you don't come down in 60 seconds, then I'm hauling your arse out, Mister Potter," warns Hermione. "Girls can use the boys' staircase too, just so you know."

Regardless, Harry races ahead behind Crookshanks and up the winding mahogany staircase towards the third-year boys' dormitory. The circular room much resembling Professor Dumbledore's description at the end of Harry's first-year.

"Wrrreow!" Crookshanks leaps atop Ron's bed and begins pawing the blanket aside, scrambling to find the rat.

"Yes, boy. Very good, boy. Atta-booyyyy!"

The sight of Ron's bed being messed up, with blankets, pillows and parchment flying about, brings a wide grin to Harry's face. It seems that Crookshanks is absolutely enjoying himself up here today, and he only stops once the dormitory door flies open.

 "Alright, get out, both of you!" scolds Hermione as she stands in the doorway. "Look at what you've done, Crookshanks, bad boy."

In a matter of seconds, both Harry and Crookshanks are shooed out by Hermione before she tidies the room with a few spells. With everything cleared, they now return to the common room couch. There's little time to relax, however, as Hermione sees that it's just after two o'clock in the afternoon.

"Tick-tock, 2:10 says the clock; we have to leave right now, Harry."

They stand up and hurriedly exit the common room, which Harry sneaks one last look at over his shoulder. "You know, I do prefer the Slytherin common room after all. No offense though, but thanks."

"I knew you'd say that," admits Hermione, returning Harry's Slytherin attire once out of Sir Cadogan's sight. "Now there's no time to waste, literally. Have a great end of day and enjoy Divination, my Potions partner in crime!"

Arriving at Divination around 2:15, Harry attributes his late coming to having suffered a 'near panic attack' at thinking about the Grim. To every Slytherin's amusement, this flimsy excuse actually works. Even better is Trelawney spending the next few minutes reassuring him of having a 'fruitful short lifeline', although expressing her sympathies at his inevitable tragic demise.

The rest of the week carries on rather uneventfully as work and assignments continue to pile up for Harry and his classmates. There's simply no mercy on behalf of the relentless third-year schedule this year.

 

 


	17. The Second Hogsmeade Trip

Much like its first week, the rest of November seemingly flies by for Harry. Unfortunately, it seems that Hermione has become rather scarce since her little Gryffindor common room favour. The only time Harry truly sees her is during Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, and by sneaking a look towards the Gryffindors in the Great Hall. But he knows Hermione well enough to see that look of academic determination which tells Harry to leave her be.

Something seems to have shaken up the Quidditch teams in the wake of Harry's unfortunate loss of broom. Slytherin and Gryffindor's score of 220 - 120 has also motivated the rest to catch up. Therefore, what seems like an easy win for Ravenclaw turns out to be a thriller of a game ending with them narrowly winning against Hufflepuff.

By December, Quidditch practice once again picks up for Team Slytherin, and Harry resumes his Chaser training. But he simply fails to keep up with his teammates upon flying on one of the school's Shooting Stars.

"Screw this USELESS training session!" yells Flint during an early December's practice. "You're rich, Potter; Now go buy yourself a new broom for God's sake!"

All is not lost, however, as Team Slytherin soon capitalises on Harry's misfortune. The idea is to make it seem as if Harry's place on the team is uncertain, which would fool their rivals in training.

"Bloody brilliant plan, Potter! I, uh, could've thought of that!" says Flint after completing another evening's practice. Meanwhile, word quickly spreads around that Slytherin might consider benching Harry Potter from the team.

Even better is Draco 'accidentally' speaking loud enough for others to hear that Harry has somewhere in the region of 'only a 1000 Galleons' at Gringotts. If there's one thing Draco's good at, it's being condescending indeed (which is perfect for maintaining their act). Montague and Warrington are also tasked with making it sound as if Harry's afraid of dishing out half his vault for just a broom. And anything less than a Nimbus 2001 is stated to be a big 'no' for Team Slytherin.

"Darn, boys; I can't wait to see the looks on Ravenclaw's faces when Harry rocks up with his 2001 as Chaser," says Flint during yet ANOTHER practice session in December. "Talk about screwing with all their predictions and preparations. Once we destroy the scoreboard on them, Hufflepuff will be a breeze at the end of the season. Hello, Quidditch Cup!"

For extra precaution with regards to Sirius Black or Dementors interfering with practice, Madam Hooch has been tasked with overseeing Harry's training. Though he soon resorts to literally begging on his knees before her. "Please, ma'am, we've got a good strategy going here. Don't tell anyone that I'm not getting kicked off the team!"

"I don't approve of deception but... fine, Potter."

Flint and the rest breathe a sigh of relief in knowing that their plan remains intact. Therefore, as Quidditch training continues, one Chaser usually sits out to lend their broom to Harry. The latter also remains sharp in his preferred position by slotting in 1-on-1 battles with Draco whenever possible.

From a haze of rain blanketing the school to skies pouring down their snow, December moves on. For once, Harry opts against staying at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays. Instead, he meets up with both Ginny and Hermione to organise staying over at their homes; this would entail exiting King's Cross with the Grangers, followed by travelling to the Burrow around Christmas. With Harry's holiday plans finalised, he returns to the common room on Saturday evening...

"Potter, where have you been?" asks Nott, standing beside Zabini in the centre of the partially packed common room.

"Parkinson's been looking for you all afternoon," says a suspicious Zabini.

"I was in the library with Granger, followed by chatting with the youngest Weasley," replies Harry, as smug as ever. Nott and Zabini, however, are clearly unamused by his actions.

"Didn't we tell you that those sort of people are only to be spoken with if needed for academics or whatever?" asks Nott. "We condoned your 'acquaintance' with the Mudblood solely for upping your marks, Potter."

"I was meeting with Granger for academics in the library," says Harry.

As the hostilities begin to increase, so does the common room steadily fill up with faces both known and unknown to Harry. Out of the corner of his eye, the latter spots a few youngsters exiting the room to call Professor Snape.

"Ah, there you are, my Potter!" says Pansy, happily jogging across the tense common room to approach one of her best friends.

"Leave Potter alone; he doesn't care about us nor Slytherin House," says Zabini, now turning to frown at Harry. "Do you honestly think we'll believe this lie of yours? That expression alone suggests more than just 'academic talk', Potter. You're really irking us with your continued casual visits to that Mudblood, you know."

"Is that true, Harry?" Pansy leans against a black couch near the brightly lit fireplace.

"Why shouldn't it be? If anyone's got such a big problem with Granger, then they can get stuffed up the arse. Pansy, please don't tell me you're siding with these hating losers just because I'm upholding my close friendships?"

"Rubbish!" says Nott. "Enough is enough already, Potter. We're sick and tired of watching you being all friendly with Granger all the damn time. You don't belong in Slytherin." His statement elicits many gasps around the common room this evening.

"Oh yeah?" Harry scoffs at Nott. "This is my House, swine; I can make friends with whoever, whatever, and wherever the hell I want."

The door opens as Snape strides into the room, and yet Nott continues to admonish Harry.

"Stand and declare yourself, Half-Blood! It's either us proper folks or you can piss off with your stupid, filthy Mudblood girlfriend—"

"You three... AGAIN?" Snape all but shoves his way through the fearful crowd to stand in its centre; his expression truly irate while looking from Harry to Zabini to Nott.

"Professor," says Nott, "we were just having some important priorities talk with Pot—"

"Lies," mutters Harry. "It's the same crap I'm hearing about my choice of friends again, sir."

"Don't tell me this is about the insufferable know-it-all  _yet again_?" asks Snape, throwing up his arms and sighing in annoyance. "At least once every term, I'm called out of office for the same repetitive squabbles in this room. Listen, you two,"—He glares at Nott and Zabini—"I don't care for whatever irks you on a daily basis, but when it comes certain topics then keep that to yourselves." Snape narrows his eyes at a startled Harry before addressing Nott once again. "If Potter over here feels the urge to chase after Granger, then so what?"

"But, Professor, he's a Half-Blood that needs to make the proper friends—OW!"

Harry grins as Zabini's hit over the head by whatever textbook Snape seems to be carrying.

"How long will it take you to realise that Potter's not the only Half-Blood in Slytherin?" asks Snape. He now folds his arms and sweeps his gaze over the nervous group of students. "And what gives anyone the right to decide who Potter should be friends with?"

"Yeah," says Harry, pointing to his Head of House. "What he said—Argh!"

Snape smacks Harry with the former's textbook (causing Pansy to giggle as Snape speaks). "Quiet, Potter! As I've said, I am sick and tired of coming here to the same foolishness every time. I DO NOT WISH TO HEAR ANOTHER WORD ABOUT 'WHO POTTER SHOULD BE FRIENDS WITH', is that clear?"

"Okay, Professor!" says a clearly terrified Nott while Snape's as livid as anyone's yet seen their Head. "But can we at least agree upon the fact that he shouldn't be associating with Gryffindors, sir? You said they're stupid, right?"

"Yes," adds Draco, tentatively stepping forward from the crowd. "I also think it's a bit questionable for a Slytherin to be walking around with a Gryffindor, sir. Not to mention the whole blood status thing—"

"YOU'D BETTER KEEP THAT TO YOURSELVES, ALL OF YOU!" snaps Snape, "One wrong word and the others will be down our throats deducting points. For the last time, I DO NOT CARE WHO ABOUT POTTER'S LIFE CHOICES AND NEITHER SHOULD YOU."

"Sir—"

"DETENTION, NOTT! AND YOU TOO, ZABINI! You'll both be cleaning Hippogriff dung with neither magic nor gloves throughout this weekend." Snape swiftly singles out Yasmin from the crowd. "Do your duty, Prefect, before I revoke that badge."

"Y-Yes, sir!" Yasmin hurries forward as Snape slams the door behind him on his way out.

"Whoa," gasps Harry, still rubbing his head where the textbook had hit. "Anyone ever see Professor Snape in such a rage? He must REALLY not want us to lose points out there..."

Still giggling, Pansy approaches Harry to gently rub the spot where he'd been hit. "Did Professor Snape finally smack some sense into you?"

"Oh, very funny, Pansy; could pass for a comedian."

Any further quarrels are rapidly shut down by a furious Yasmin as she chases everyone to their dormitories. "Go sleep things off before I do something you'll regret! Can't believe  _my_  badge is at risk because of you discriminative pieces of sh—"

Once at his bed in his dormitory, Harry shut his curtains and repeats the same spell over a handful of times. _"Serpensortia."_

"Potter, what's going on in there?" asks Draco.

"Apparently, I 'don't belong' in Slytherin. Well, maybe that'll change by sleeping with a bunch of angry snakes. Word of advice though: stay the hell out of my area if you know what's good for you." As Harry falls asleep, he can practically hear the summoned serpents communicating with each other. They remain atop his bed and guard their territory until Sunday morning.

The final week of term continues with all but Charms class continuing their curriculum. As usual, Flitwick shows his usual laid-back approach by allowing students to play games around this time of the year. Naturally, Harry uses every opportunity to spend with his girls before the end of term.

Thursday morning sees many third-year Slytherins bringing chessboards, Exploding Snap cards, newspapers, or any other means of entertainment to Charms. Harry, Pansy and Daphne claim their own row of desks deliberately away from Nott and Zabini, who have decided upon challenging each other to consecutive games of chess. Elsewhere, Draco wins successive rounds of Snap against Crabbe and Goyle. Then there's the group of Millicent, Tracey, and Sally-Anne fawning over various products in the latest magazines while huddled together in their chosen corner of the class.

"So, what are we playing this time?" asks Harry, seated between Daphne and Pansy.

"Let's have a round of 'praise me'," replies Pansy. Her suggestion eliciting a gagging gesture from Daphne.

"In that case, I'm getting up; no way can I endure that stupid game of yours."

"It's not stupid, it's creative! And who doesn't wanna hear compliments?" asks a scowling Pansy.

"Whoa, calm down! Let's start budgeting for Saturday; I've got some ink and a quill." Harry pulls out a parchment to scribble on.

"Great idea!" says Daphne. "Alright, I say we make three columns for us. Then, on the side, start listing all the shops you'd like to browse."

"I vote we spend no more than 4 Galleons at Gladrags this time," states Pansy.

"Finally, I'm all for that." Harry dips his quill and scribbles down 4's across the columns beneath their names.

"Mm-hmm, we'll budget 2 Galleons at Honeydukes. That's more than enough to stuff ourselves good," says Daphne.

"No Sickles or Knuts?" asks Harry.

"Pah! Let 'em keep the small change. Anything less than 5 Sickles I usually don't bother to get back," says Pansy, and Daphne nods in agreement before Harry speaks.

"You girls feel like paying Zonko's a visit?"

"Not really into the whole joke stuff, Harry, unless someone else plays the prank. And preferably not on me," admits Daphne.

"So, that's a 'no' from you then. And what about you, Pansy?"

"Nah, don't feel like it."

"Okay, we'll skip the jokes." Harry resumes planning out their Hogsmeade trip while the rest of the class continues playing games or browsing magazines. The thoughtful expressions of Harry, Daphne, and Pansy soon attracts Flitwick's attention as the Professor approaches to stand before their desk.

"Not in the mood for fun, Mr. Potter?"

"We're just trying to plan and budget for this weekend, sir," says Harry.

"Especially since Harry's gonna spoil us, am I right?" asks Pansy.

"Uh, yeah, I guess."

"Good. Because if you want our forgiveness and permission to spend your holidays with Granger and the Weasleys, you'd better treat us like queens," says Daphne firmly. Meanwhile, Harry glances awkwardly at an amused Flitwick.

"It's a long story, sir."

"Well, do carry on then. But don't forget to enjoy yourselves too! Festive season only comes once a year, you know," Flitwick walks across the room to observe Nott and Zabini's game of chess.

Pansy turns to grin mischievously at Harry once again. "5 Hours of Hogsmeade servitude ought to do for forgiveness."

"Mm-hmm, be grateful we're still lenient on you, Harry. Other folks"—Daphne nods her head in the direction of Nott and Zabini—"as you know, aren't as forgiving about your friendships as we are."

Pansy agrees before lowering her voice. "Nott's father is a Death Eater too. Quite a fanatical one indeed, unlike my mom who's always just been there. So, you should feel grateful to still have my undying love, Harry, regardless of your Muggle wuggle pal."

"Undying love?" Harry laughs and tries to put on a serious face once more. "Okay, I get it. Thank you for always being the precious butterfly that you are."

"Don't forget the others as well. You still need to be Sally-Anne, Tracey and Millicent's little servant on the day," says a chirpy Daphne. "No rest for the wicked, Harry."

"So, that's one hour of servitude I owe per girl?"

"Yes, Harry," says Pansy, "and group activities don't count for all of us. It's still 5 hours total, no negotiations."

By the following Saturday morning, Harry's up and early for an otherwise servile day at Hogsmeade. Truth be told, he doesn't mind the teasing of Pansy's group and their idea of 'forgiveness'.

First comes the 'James' disguise once again before entering Hogsmeade; then, Harry joins his five girls as they walk down Hogsmeade's High Street

"I'm taking James with me to the hairdresser," says Sally-Anne. "Don't worry, you're just there to observe and compliment us."

"Why don't we all just go? Then we can hit the Three Broomsticks afterwards," says Pansy. "Forget Gladrags today."

"I think I saw Professor McGonagall and the big oaf headed to the tavern earlier," says Millicent.

"His name's Hagrid," says Harry.

"Aww, did we hurt your feelings?" asks Tracey. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, Mr. Sensitive, I think your Hagrid pal's an okay teacher. But he really needs to get his confidence back. Hippogriff incident or not, his lessons have become rather dull since then."

Harry's day can pretty much be summarised as follows: Being led by the girls across town, sitting down and observing each one styling their hair, forking out the occasional few coins, and pampering them as ordered. At some point, he finds himself having to rub each one's back and shoulders.

"No rest for the wicked, James. Rub my back while we all look at the Shrieking Shack," says Tracey.

"And how am I supposed to do that, Tracey?"

"Stop acting confused, Granger-lover. You know darn well how to stick your hands up the back of a girl's robes. There are a few gaps near the lower back area." More servitude ensues as Harry does as told, to which Tracey smiles. "Ah, looks like Chaser training's given you a good grip indeed. Handling me like a Quaffle, eh?"

"Ravenclaw won't know what hit 'em when I step in. Gonna show them that talent runs in the family," boasts Harry.

"Your dad was a Chaser, yes; now why in hell do I keep thinking he was a Seeker?" asks Daphne.

"I believe in you, servant James," says Pansy kindly.

"Yeah, girls, very motivational, now let's continue with our day." With less than 3 hours of servitude to complete, he sees out the rest of this trip in a decent mood. Their penultimate stop turns out to be Honeydukes, in which Harry hopes to be left alone by others. "Tell any idiot that looks like they wanna speak to me to bugger off," he whispers in Pansy's ear, as they stand in line after picking their items within the store.

"I can definitely do that, my baby James." Pansy snarls upon seeing Neville Longbottom headed their way.

"Uhm, Har—"

"Get lost, toadboy!" She sneers upon preventing Neville from trying to strike a conversation with Harry.

"Uh, okay; just wanted to say my gran is worried about Sirius Black getting to you." Neville scampers off to join Seamus Finnigan in the street outside.

"You alright? He didn't upset you with those words, did he?" asks Pansy.

"Like I'm scared of Black. Don't even know the guy; what's his deal with me, anyway?" Harry waves dismissively at his own question as it's time to pay up and exit the sweet shop. Next on the list soon turns out to be... "The Three Broomsticks! Let's head inside."

"Today, you will taste the wonders of Butterbeer, James!" declares Pansy.

"But I don't wanna get drunk."

"Oh my God, it's not your Muggle stuff, silly." Pansy facepalms and sighs. "It's _Butterbeer_ , which only contains a tiny amount of alcohol. Now, move your arse inside, servant!"

The group of girls eagerly enter the bar with Harry following suit. Having never been here before, the latter smiles at the spacious, crowded expanse of tavern all around. And there certainly seems to be a festive vibe around here today, regardless of a dangerous convict being on the run.

Suddenly, Daphne gasps and points to the back of the room. "Hey, that's the Minister of Magic himself: Cornelius Fudge! Look at him all serious in his usual striped suit and lime green hat."

Indeed, Fudge appears to be in some rather deep conversation with Hagrid, McGonagall and Flitwick. Being too far out of earshot, however, leaves Harry and his girls absolutely clueless as to these discreet discussions. But in mere seconds, it appears that McGonagall seems to have spotted Harry; the former hastily alerting the Minister to his presence within the tavern.

"Oh, McGonagall definitely knows it's me." Harry and his girls seat themselves in the centre of the room as Fudge's group swiftly exits the tavern.

"Whatever they were discussing was probably super important. Gosh, they just fled like thieves in the night after seeing you!" says Pansy.

"I guess we'll never know what that was about," says Harry. "But whatever; let's just enjoy the rest of our day." Although tiring, his second Hogsmeade trip eventually comes to an end as the group of six returns to the castle.

"As a reward for today's servitude, James, you are hereby forgiven for your holiday plans," says Pansy, grabbing her 'James' into a firm hug as they walk up the snowy streets.

Harry struggles to withhold his laughter. "Thank you so much, my benevolent mistresses. It has been a true pleasure to have served and pampered you on this fine Hogsmeade day, hahaha!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Fine' it truly is for Harry who remains ignorant of Fudge's conversation regarding Sirius Black. Since Harry had not used his Invisibility Cloak, as in canon, he remains blissfully unaware of the supposed 'heartbreaking betrayal' of Sirius to the Potters. Therefore, the escapee remains little more than a 'madman serving Voldemort', in Harry's opinion.


	18. The Christmas Holidays Begin

_Sunday, December 19th, 1993._

Taking the Hogwarts Express back to London around December feels truly strange indeed for Harry. Sitting in a compartment with his girls, he cannot help but stare out the window to his left.

"Hey, if he keeps his face pressed against the window any longer, Harry's gonna end up with Pansy's snub nose, hahahaha!" laughs Daphne, before receiving an elbow to the side.

"I'm sure he likes it, right, Harry? Uhm, hello?" Pansy tilts her head to the right, closer to the misty window. "It's called snow, you know. Falling from the skies, winter's surprise; oh so ever nice."

"I've never left Hogwarts around this time before," says Harry softly, his voice barely above the sounds of the train. Sitting beside him on his right are Tracey and Millicent.

"There's a first time for everything. Not that we don't envy you, Harry," says Tracey.

His face still against the glass, Harry speaks, "And what does that mean?"

"While some of us went home, you, Mister, got a fancy Invisibility Cloak one year. Oh and what happened the next? I can't seem to recall Christmas Day last year...hmm I wonder why?" asks Millicent, now turning to look left, past Tracey, at Harry.

"I've probably said this before, but I'm really sorry about Hermione's Polyjuice antics."

"And yet you're spending the next few days with that girl. Hmph, you're damn lucky we like you so much," says Millicent.

At just over two hours into their trip, Harry hears a slight commotion from outside. "What's that?"

"Relax, Potter boy; it's just an argument or something. No need to keep reaching for your wand." Pansy giggles behind her hand. "Even if it is a nice 11 inches."

The voices soon turn out to be Ron and Hermione passing by Harry's compartment; one holding a rat while the latter cradles her cat. They appear to be furiously arguing, and Harry knows exactly what it's about.

"—leave Crookshanks alone!" yells Hermione (while various compartment doors open up nearby). "And to think that I'm supposed to come visit you?"

"Then don't come; at least that'll keep your bloody furball monster away from my Scabbers. JUST THROW THAT CAT OFF THE TRAIN ALREADY!"

"HOW ABOUT WE THROW YOU OFF THE TRAIN?" Hermione stomps away to find another compartment while Ron does exactly the same; both students now storming off in opposite directions with their pets.

"My God," gasps Sally-Anne, "your Gryffindor associates have well and truly lost their minds this year, Harry. They almost make your arguments with Nott and Zabini seem tame."

"Ronald's the one in the wrong," says a scoffing Harry. "It's not Crookshanks' fault that the Weasley pet just happens to be a cat's prey. Natural instincts, man!"

"Yes, well, use your 'natural instincts' and spoil me." Pansy lays herself across Harry's lap. "I'm taking a nap, and you'd better not make it an uncomfortable one, pillow Potter."

Merely half an hour later sees the train coming to a halt, and the noise of its pistons soon dying down.

Back in September, the Hogwarts Express had been travelling in the opposite direction as today (from King's Cross towards Hogsmeade). And since that Dementor search had occurred on this exact viaduct in Scotland, it had been well past sunset by then. But as the train has stopped just a few hours before sunset today, the search feels fairly less intimidating than before.

"Oh crap," sighs Harry, "another Dementor search?'

Pansy jerks up to sit quite defensively beside him. "They must be doing another search for Sirius Black, I reckon."

"Oh really?" Millicent snorts with a laugh. "As if Black's just happily hopped onboard to track our Harry down? This is a waste of time and comfort, really."

Although many students are well aware of the reasons behind this stop, their hushed, frantic conversations can clearly be heard from their compartments.

"Come sit over here, Ginny!" says the voice of Fred, a few compartments down the passage. "Relax; it's not even dark like the last time this happened."

Regardless of it being in broad daylight, the same eerie chill fills the train as the Dementor glides through the passageway. Hushed whispers echo around the train, and fearful sobs (likely Ginny's) can be heard all the way from Harry's compartment.

"Close your doors, people," says Professor Lupin from further down the passage. "Anyone see Harry? I'm looking for his compartment. I swear that if I hear anyone laughing or making fun, then that'll be House points and, possibly, detention too."

Tracey leans to whisper in Harry's ear. "He really likes you, doesn't he? Well, at least he's much better than the previous two losers in that post."

A cloaked figure, towering to the ceiling, stands right outside Harry's compartment with its greyish hand opening the sliding door.

"Surely it won't try this again?" Pansy wraps her arms around the shivering Harry. "Wait, is this even the same Dementor as before? Don't worry, scaredy-cat, I'll protect you!"

From beneath its hood, the Dementor draws a long, slow, rattling breath towards Harry; the attack sending chills throughout the latter as a woman once again pleads in the distance.

"Go away!" says Daphne, flinging her bag across the room in a failed attempt at shooing the Dementor.

"Piss off, you rotten floating maniac," mutters Pansy through clenched teeth.

Everything swirls around Harry as the room goes white, but he's not going to collapse like a weakling again; he refuses. No matter what the Dementor might be trying here, Harry tries so damn hard to resist.

"Don't shiver; don't shake," whispers Pansy. "I've got yo—huh?" She falls across the seat after being shaken off by a Harry drawing his wand.

"STUPID—AZKABAN—PIECE—OF—RUBBISH, LEAVE ME ALONE AND... FUCK OFF!"

"Whoa, Harry, don't—" Daphne squeals (while the rest of the students hurriedly exit their compartments) as Harry begins hurling whatever he can against the Dementor.

" _FLIPENDO!"_

The compartment's glass shatters upon impact before the Dementor glides to close in on a manic Harry.

" _SERPENSORTIA!_   _ENGORGIO!"_

Loud, aggressive hisses echo from Harry's compartment as he furiously spews out orders in Parseltongue.

"RIP... TEAR... KILL... KILL IT! KILL THE GODDAMN DEMENTOR!"

Sally-Anne gapes at Harry as he's guarded by an enlarged summoned serpent. "What the hell is our boy saying? That sounds so bloody evil!"

Finally, a kind of silvery light fills the passage and shoos away the Dementor. Now, Harry slowly comes to his senses upon seeing a shocked Lupin standing in the doorway.

"Are you alright? I— my word!" Lupin casts a few spells to repair any damages and vanish Harry's serpent. "Parselmouth, as I've been told, yes. But it still doesn't make any sense at all. I mean, neither James nor Lily—"

"Forget that, Professor!" says Tracey. "The present's more important, and Harry could really use some chocolate again."

"In my haste to board the train, I, uh, forgot to stock up this morning," admits an embarrassed Lupin.

Meanwhile, Harry plonks himself down beside a concerned Pansy. "Doesn't matter, I've always got cash, Professsor." He gasps and flicks his tongue. "Sorry about that; I'm not quite adept at switching between languages at times."

Minutes later, Harry and the girls settle down as the train resumes its journey once again. But even after the Dementor's exit, Lupin opts to remain in this compartment for a good while longer. This is especially useful in waving away the many students coming to sneak a look at Harry.

"Why not just shut the blinds, Professor?" asks Daphne. "The trolley witch would still open the door to sell her stuff anyway."

"Good idea," says Lupin, shutting the blinds as footsteps race down the passageway.

Harry yawns and leans to rest his head on the nearest available shoulder. "Girls, wake me up when the sweet trolley arrives, or just go ahead and buy whatever."

Millicent looks from a giggling Pansy to Harry to Lupin. "Um, Harry, that's not Pansy you're leaning on..."

"How absolutely adorable!" says a beaming Daphne.

"Oh, so this is how it is, eh?" Pansy folds her arms and tilts her head. "Choosing some random Professor's shoulder over mine? Hmph!"

"Settle down, ladies," says Lupin. "Let him rest and recover from whatever harrowing memories that thing might've brought up."

After half an hour's rest, Harry's back to his (mostly) usual self once again. Soon, he empties the entire sweet trolley before dividing the luxuries between his girls and Lupin.

"There's no need, Harry—"

"I insist, Professor."

Midway through the trip, Hermione finally enters the compartment and immediately begins fussing over Harry. Even Crookshanks meows at him while Hermione continues her rant on the Dementors' risks to student wellness.

"Looks like you're all set and in good hands now, Harry," says Lupin, standing up to exit the compartment with a smile.

Hermione ignores the expressions shown by Pansy's group as she continues to rant. "How can Sirius Black continue to evade any and all of the Ministry's methods of trying to find him? It boggles the mind that our entire leading government body can't even catch ONE WIZARD!"

"You're making a damn lot of noise, Granger!" says Pansy. "Seriously, settle down and shut up already. Ranting like a mad Muggleborn won't do a damn thing to catch Black."

By the time they reach King's Cross Station, the group of Harry, Pansy, Tracey, Daphne, Sally-Anne, Millicent, and Hermione steadily begin exiting the Hogwarts Express.

"So long for the holidays, Harry," says Daphne, grabbing him into a warm hug.

Tracey joins in on the gesture. "Don't do anything silly now, alright? I don't wanna lose my fellow bespectacled buddy."

"Gonna miss your silliness for the next two weeks," admits Millicent.

"You'd better not do anything bad to him, Granger," warns Sally-Anne.

Pansy stands facing Harry as she ruffles his hair. "I suppose this might be a step-up from your boring life in Little Whinging. But don't let Granger poison you with her Muggleborn ways, alright?"

"Oh, excuse me," scoffs Hermione as Pansy's group exits the compartment. "The sooner we leave, the better; it's past 7pm already. And you, Mister, need proper sleep after all that's happened here today."

Eventually, the pair spot Draco and the rest of Harry's roommates walking past; their expressions conveying nothing less than disappointment. Regardless, Harry struts out the train while walking beside one happy Granger. They cross through the magical barrier towards King's Cross where many students have already left the station with their parents or guardians. Looking around platform nine and three-quarters, he walks a fair bit with Hermione until finally approaching her parents standing near the station's exit.

"Harry Potter." Mr. Granger firmly shakes Harry's hand. "Hermione's had no shortage of words about you, young man."

"Good words, no doubt" adds a smiling Mrs. Granger.

Harry stands nervously before Hermione's parents; it certainly seems that she's told these Muggles quite a bit about her Hogwarts life.

"We really should be getting home," says Hermione, much to Harry's relief. "Let's just say that Harry's had a bit of a rough day on the train."

Much to Harry's surprise, Hermione insists that her father pull their school trunks along as the group makes their way out of King's Cross station. Then, the pair of students take their seats at the back of the Grangers' family car.

"So, Harry, is there anything else you'd like to do before we head home?" asks Hermione. "Diagon Alley at this hour, perhaps? I reckon Gringotts might still be open in case you're in need of foreign exchange."

"No thanks; I actually did make preparations for the holidays, you know." Harry folds his arms and tilts his head. "That trunk's carrying around 300 Pounds."

Hermione gasps and cups her mouth. "That's truly overkill for just two weeks worth of holiday."

"I guess I just feel like ordering pizzas and desserts for the Dursleys," says Harry, watching the brightly lit streetlamps pass by outside.

"That's very kind of you, Harry, but you'd better do it anonymously. Otherwise, they'd be super suspicious and likely dump your gift straight in the bin."

After about half an hour's drive, Mr. Granger finally pulls up to his driveway. Now, Harry wastes no time in getting out the car and retrieving his trunk from the boot.

"What are you in such a rush for, dear?" asks Mrs. Granger.

"He must really be wanting that night's rest," says Mr. Granger, as Harry is swiftly led inside the triple storey house by Hermione.

"Feel free to make yourself at home. Just, um, don't take that too literally, okay? Can't have you walking around in your knickers with my parents around."

Harry checks to see that nobody's looking as he leans to whisper in Hermione's ear. "There's no pretty Mugglebabes around at Privet Drive, so no reason to flash the serpent. Here, however..."

He laughs before being punched on the shoulder by a slightly blushing Hermione. "Control yourself! My parents are upstanding citizens; dentists, in case I haven't already mentioned. Now then, go get cleaned up and I'll show you to your room."

The following morning sees Harry up and early in the first-floor spare bedroom which has been allocated for him. He now climbs out of his bed (situated in one corner of the room) and walks straight ahead to exit into the first-floor passage en route to the nearest bathroom. As the morning moves on, so does Hermione and her family get on with their day. By noon, Harry heads to Hermione's lilac-themed room where he begins jumping on her bed, much to the latter's bewildered amusement.

"Such a little child, I can scarcely believe my eyes, Harry! Oh, where's my camera?" Hermione furiously rummages through her cupboard and drawers until eventually retrieving her camera.

"This—is—AWESOME!" yells Harry, as he now continues to jump atop Hermione's bed like a little child. After his 10th hop, he falls flat onto his back while sweating, and yet filled with laughter.

Giggling as well, Hermione walks over with her camera in hand to capture the next few jumps.

"Round 2, here I go!" Harry resumes his antics, feeling the rush of wind as his hair blows about. And little does he care for the flash of light catching him in mid-air. Seconds later, he beams as Crookshanks leaps onto the bed to stand beside him. "You wanna join? Let's go, Crooky." To his amusement, the cat hops onto his back before Harry stands up, slightly bent over.

"I have to get this!" Hermione captures a handful of pictures as Harry jumps with Crookshanks perched atop him. The flashes of light doing little to disturb their fun time.

"What are you going to do with all those images, anyway. Blackmail me?" Harry climbs off the bed, and Crookshanks leaps right off him to land on the floor before exiting the room.

"A tempting idea but..."—Hermione walks past her notice board, pinned to one side of the room, before reaching out to touch a blank piece of wall—"just here should do it."

Harry stands confused and scratches the back of his hair. "Uhm, do what exactly?"

"I already have a notice board for news, assignments, memos, etc. This space can be for, well—"

"Alright, I get it, no need to explain, Miss Know-It-All. Right above your bed, just where I'd love to be."

Hermione spins around, her eyes slightly narrowed, "Very funny. Now, what does the little child wish to do next? Hmm?"

"This little child wishes to kick ball outside."

"Don't have one, sorry. Why would I need a football?" asks Hermione.

"So, what can we do outside?" Harry walks towards the desk, past Hermione's bed, and stands looking through her bedroom window at the greenery below. Trees, shrubs and hedges adorn the neighbourhood as far as the eye can see. The sounds of light traffic acting as a staunch reminder of being in the Muggle world now.

"I'd prefer to read a book, study, or plan ahead for my classes. Yes, I know that likely bores you, Quidditch star."

"Depends on what you're reading; I'm your guest, so you're in charge now," says a grinning Harry.

Folding her arms, Hermione smirks. "In that case, we're going to revise some Charms. All theory, of course."

"Fine." Harry sighs. "But don't think you're the only one that's got something to teach."

Hermione retrieves two  _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3_ , from their trunks before they sit on the floor against her bed. "And what have you got to teach me, I wonder? Probably Potions, but then again you lot always get favoured in class."

"Are you still dreadful on a broom? Or have you improved since we chased those keys?" asks Harry, although taken aback by the slight wince on Hermione's face.

"I don't need to use a broom."

"Don't avoid the question."

"Not like I plan on being a Quidditch star or anything, so the 'question' is irrelevant," replies Hermione adamantly.

"What nerve did I touch now? You've been uppity again ever since I asked to play outside."

"Hmph, not everyone is naturally gifted on a broom, you know."

"And not everyone is such a perfect hard-working individual, you know."

Hermione's eyes slightly widen, the compliment catching her off guard. "I'm not  _perfect_ , Harry."

"I wonder if anyone else in our year can manage all those E's of yours with a few O's scattered in-between? Plus, how many electives did you say you take again?"

"None of your business how I manage my schedule. But, seriously, I'm not perfect."

"Stop selling yourself short, Hermione."

"I'm basically your height."

"Jokes aside, if I have to sit here and read for the next few hours, then I want my end of the deal," says Harry, while looking over his shoulder to a curious Hermione.

"Flying, huh?"

"Yep, but I can start with the basics. I remember that you just seem so uncomfortable on a broom itself, never mind the actual flying part."

"I'll never be good on a broom," sighs Hermione.

"Now look who's acting like a kid eh? Give me a chance," pleads Harry, to which Hermione snorts in defiance.

"You're wasting your time."

"Nothing's a waste on you, smart-arse. What second-year could figure out and brew a Polyjuice Potion? Solve the Chamber mystery? What first-year could so easily solve Professor Snape's riddle? Or do some 'light' reading to find Nicolas Flamel?" asks Harry.

"Hmph, all theory," replies Hermione.

"Is it the broomstick itself or fear of heights or motion sickness? What's the hardest part for you?"

"A bit of everything, really."

"For Hermione Jean Granger to suck on a broom is a crime towards humanity. I can't let that go on. Let's go."

"What? Where?" asks Hermione, as Harry stands up and pulls her to her feet.

"I'll need some crates and a broomstick, you got any of those?"

"Garage; keys are in the kitchen." Hermione sighs before entering the first floor passage towards the stairs. "Just do whatever, you'll soon see how futile this is."

Harry follows her through to the ground floor. They pass by several decorative pictures and paintings along the slightly peach coloured walls. After walking through the passage, they enter the kitchen adjacent to the Grangers' sizable reception area. "Hell of a living room you've got here."

"Would you care to see my childhood photos?" asks Hermione.

"Broom stuff first, baby Granger stuff later," says Harry, grabbing a pair of keys from a drawer in the kitchen. "I like your kitchen too, nice and spacious."

"Are you gonna compliment everything in this house?" asks Hermione, though with an appreciative laugh.

"What's this kinda table thing called?" Harry stands looking at the kitchen's centre before opening the back door. "It's quite long for a family of three."

"It's an island and, by the way, we're a family of four now." Hermione smiles at seeing the grin on Harry's face.

As Harry politely explores the neat garage, Hermione takes a seat at the island and awaits his return. To her surprise, he brings in 4 crates stacked atop each other, and a simple Muggle broom. "Would you mind carrying those four blocks in the garage?"

"Where are we putting all this stuff, anyway?" asks Hermione.

"Your room."

"No way, I refuse."

"I checked 'em, they're clean enough. No bugs or spider webs or anything," says Harry, separating the broomstick from its head.

"I... fine, but don't you dare mess up my room, Harry."

"I'd clean it for you, really."

"You're my guest and not a House Elf; I could never make you do chores here," admits Hermione, before carrying one concrete block at a time from the garage to her room. "I'm still trying to understand what you're planning."

"You'll see that it's pretty simple." Harry heads upstairs to set up his makeshift broom session in Hermione's room while she shuts the kitchen door. Once all four blocks have been brought to her room, Hermione stops to analyse what she sees.

Four crates, organized into two stacks of two, now stand between Hermione's bed and the nearest wall. About a metre long gap separates them in order to allow the broomstick to be placed across the crates. It appears to have been jammed into the sides of them so as to prevent it from rolling about.

"As you can see, this is basically mimicking when you sit on a broom. The crates are to hold the stick in place but they'll need those blocks for added weight." Harry carries over one at a time, and places 2 atop each stack of crates. "Problem is, I can't get the stick any higher than what is safe. So, when you sit then your feet are on the ground."

"You want me to sit on that broomstick?" asks Hermione, while looking at the horizontally placed broom between the crates. "This is quite embarrassingly awkward indeed."

"There's no better way to learn in the Muggle world, you know. Otherwise, we could always break the Statute of Secrecy and go fly outside in the park."

"What? That's insane!" Hermione's cheeks turn a slight tinge of red. "I, um, might fall off on this contraption of yours; is it sturdy enough?"

"For your perfect figure, heck yes!" Harry walks over to usher a nervous Hermione towards his contraption. After lifting her leg up, she takes a seat and immediately feels anxious.

"I don't like this at all—"

"Oh shush, at least your feet are still on the ground."

"I'm going to slip off! This is ridiculous!"

"Quit acting like a terrified first-year," says an amused Harry.

"I just can't stand it! Even worse when it's high in the air, everything seems so unsteady and I'll fall and—"

"Now I'm wondering whether you really  _are_  Hermione Granger, perfect witch, or just someone else Polyjuiced. Come on, be a brave Gryffindor," says Harry.

"What are you d— no!" Hermione gasps as Harry kneels beside her and bends her knees to lift her feet. This causes her to be seated atop the horizontal broomstick without any ground support. "I'm gonna fall."

"I've got you, so relax. Place both arms on the broomstick and use your body to balance. Simple." Harry lets out a slight laugh. "And this is why I always argue that there is a reason for Quidditch physical practice; you need a good core to balance optimally on a broom, especially during tricky flight."

"Wha"—Hermione pauses to adjust herself from nearly slipping to the left—"What are you hoping to accomplish with this? Trying to make me a Quidditch player or something? Waste of time."

Harry looks at her and snorts. "I can hardly believe how much your fear of flying has increased over these past two years. Don't you remember actually going after those keys with us?"

"That was different!" Hermione braces herself from falling to the right.

"Remember what Dumbledore said: 'Fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself?'" asks Harry.

"What does that have to do with anything? That's for Voldemort." Once again, Hermione appears dreadfully anxious while trying to steady herself on the broomstick.

"Well, forget that for a moment and lemme make my own quote: fear of flying only increases your ability to suck when having to actually do it."

"Terri—" Hermione yelps upon toppling over to the left, though swiftly caught by Harry—"Terrible quote; there's nothing catchy or memorable about it."

Harry sighs and lets Hermione drop her feet to the floor, then he places his arms on her shoulders. "Re—fricking—lax already. Imagine if I panicked like this in the Chamber, then I'd have been dried Basilisk dung by now."

Hermione shakes her head. "This is stupid; shoving a broom between two stacks of crates in no way simulates proper flying."

"Forget flying, and focus on getting comfortable just sitting on a broomstick."

"This isn't even the same as a Nimbus or whatever! Muggle broomsticks don't have the same shape at all. Far too thin and round, so they're not suitable for sitting," says Hermione, in a slightly nervous tone.

"They're actually not too different at all besides the overall shape. So, get used to it and stop acting like Moaning Myrtle!"

"Oh please! I was never ever confident on a broom before, and never will be." Hermione grits her teeth and groans. "I'd rather be spending this time doing revision."

"You are doing revision; flying is a crucial part of life, and what if we need it someday?"

"I'm certain that we will not! Academic knowledge comes first and trumps everything else, yes," replies Hermione.

"And when we head to the Burrow on Christmas, what if Ginny and I, the twins, or even"—Harry sighs—"Ronald, decide to play Quidditch? I'm sure they can accommodate a game there. Do you want to be left out?" asks Harry while standing behind Hermione.

"I'd join in, might as well."

"But you're scared, and the last thing I'd like is to see everyone having a blast while you're the outcast."

"Why do you even care about this, anyway?" asks Hermione.

"Because Hogwarts ain't my first school, remember? I know what it's like to be 'that' kid. The one who nobody wants on their side, the butt of jokes and whispers, the dreadful player in a game," admits Harry softly, while rubbing his hands on Hermione's neck and shoulders. "My God, you're so tense!"

Hermione laughs ever so slightly. "I do a fair bit of studying, and a fair bit of being seated for long durations." She remains smiling as Harry's hands attempt to ease some stress, her eyes now gently closed. "I could pay you to do this."

"Sorry, Ginny's already made that offer, though she can't really afford it."

The statement makes Hermione open her eyes and slightly frown, her pulse slightly increased. "You know what? Teach me some more here. Let's see how much better, if at all, this gets."

"You'll learn in no time with that super brain of yours," says Harry, before carrying on with his attempts at training his Granger. An hour swiftly passes by before the family car pulls up to the driveway.

"Mum and dad are finally back. Never took this long before even if they tend to spend ages deciding which food to get," admits Hermione, climbing off the broomstick.

They immediately head downstairs to assist with carrying in a surprising amount of parcels for late lunch. Soon, their afternoon is spent seated around the granite kitchen island for lunch.

"I say we buy you some more clothes tomorrow, Harry," says Hermione.

"And I'll say that I hate shopping for clothes," admits Harry, to which Mr. Granger agrees.

"Dad, you're supposed to encourage him! Oh, never mind; mum and I will just have to lead the way as usual in those stores."

Harry merely sits back and laughs at the shopping conversation which plays out between Hermione and her father. All in all, the Grangers seem like a pretty cool bunch, in Harry's opinion.


	19. Living with Hermione

Tuesday morning arrives, and Harry, after brushing his teeth and taking one relaxing bath, exits the bathroom to head downstairs. It comes as little surprise to find Hermione reading her Charms textbook at the kitchen island yet again. But at least she's been kind enough to make serve him breakfast.

"Oh, thanks!" Harry beams upon seeing his bowl of cereal beside a plate of eggs and sausages.

Hermione looks up from her textbook, smiles, then decides to watch him eat. "And?"

"And what?"

"How's breakfast?" she asks.

"Very nice indeed. Your mum's quite the cook."

"Do you really mean that? Or are you just saying so because you don't want to offend my mother?" asks Hermione sternly.

"No, I'm serious, she's legit a good cook. I could have this little breakfast again and again; didn't know eggs and sausage could taste so nice." Harry spots Hermione grinning even wider now.

"Glad you like it, because I lied." Her grin turns to one of guilt. "Mum and dad are back at work today, so, I made that breakfast."

Harry feigns a choking fit before laying across the table. "Ugh, I'm dying, this tastes hideous!"

Smacking him on the head with her textbook, Hermione laughs. "Yeah right, you were clearly enjoying my cooking just seconds ago."

"It's just eggs and sausage, nothing too difficult," says Harry, with a mischievous smile.

"Oh? Okay. Let's see you do it for our early lunch then."

Harry stuffs his mouth full of egg and sausage before speaking, "Dronwe rav wleftovas vrom restreday?"

"When you swallow, and therefore rephrase that question in a language I can understand, then I'll answer. Where did you learn that bad habit of talking with your mouth full?" asks Hermione, sighing and slightly laughing beside Harry at the kitchen island.

After swallowing, he speaks, "Anyway, I meant to ask: 'don't we have leftovers from yesterday?'"

"We sure do! I think there's still a parcel of fish and chips left, yep. But we're not having that until you cook this exact breakfast again, big-mouth."

"My meal's totally going to beat yours, Miss Granger." Harry cracks a few eggs and scrambles them in a bowl before preparing a few sausages for cooking. As the minutes pass by, Hermione looks up every so often from her book to glance at him.

"I'm waiting."

"It's not finished yet."

More minutes pass by as Hermione decides to annoy Harry. "I'm still waaaitiiiing."

"Wait more!"

"Slow, aren't we? Better not make your wife wait this long in the future, Harry."

"Oh ha-ha, very funny. She's too busy in her Charms book anyway—"

Harry's remark has Hermione standing up to whack him with her book as she speaks. "Will—you—take—that—back—right—now—Harry—James—Potter!"

"Watch the stove, you lunatic! That plate's still on." Harry ducks to evade a book to the head. "Abusing me in the kitchen like this? Crazy arse woman!"

"Hmph, I'll go back to reading. But I'm still waiting for that meal," says Hermione haughtily, before taking her seat at the kitchen island. "Where's the food?"

"Here we go, Mrs. Potter." Harry laughs and serves up his meal, which Hermione waits to cool off as steam fills the air before her.

"Well, at least it smells okay." She grabs a forkful of egg and shoves it in her mouth, surprisingly unladylike.

Meanwhile, Harry leans against the island and merely observes his munching friend. "You know you like it; just admit defeat already."

No response, just Hermione wolfing down the meal while barely even looking at the opened textbook lying beside her plate. Once finished, she tries scraping up every last bit of egg laying around.

"I know you like it, so compliment me already," says Harry. But still no response as Hermione picks up her textbook, holds it up, and continues reading. "I'll take this little scene as your sign of defeat. What? Not gonna even make eye contact now? This is childish indeed." He waits patiently for minutes on end, but still no response.

Eventually, Harry opts to clean their dishes before plugging in and boiling water in the kettle. "Tea or coffee? What's the Granger's preference at home?"

"What did we have at Madam Puddifoot's?" asks Hermione, raising her brow while looking over her textbook at Harry.

"Alright, alright, point taken. So, how many sugars for the sweetheart?"

"One."

Seeing that Hermione's truly trying to concentrate on her reading, Harry hastens his tea-making in silence. Minutes later, the hot mug is placed in front of Hermione as Harry takes his seat across the kitchen island. "I don't usually take sugar at home, you know."

A slight snort can be heard from Hermione as she pages through her textbook. "Really? After all the sweetness of the wizarding world? So, I suppose your breakfast was good; it was actually better than mine."

"Hope I didn't rub it too much in your face? Yours was pretty nice too," says Harry softly, while sitting right beside her in order to share the textbook.

Hermione simply laughs, which brings a smile to Harry. "Doesn't matter, because I got an easy second breakfast and that's all that counts."

"So, you just used me?"

"In the best of ways, now my belly is nice and full of its second helping for this morning," says Hermione with a smirk.

Considering her penchant for reading, it's clear that Hermione spends most of her time behind books while her parents are at work. This gives Harry a good bit of insight into the home life of Hermione Granger: a loved but fairly lonely, child. She also hardly cares to maintain nor start any friendships at all, as evidenced by the glaring lack of phone calls over the holidays. Muggle world or not, Harry's always believed that someone of Hermione's calibre would be known by the rest of her family. Perhaps she's hoping to avoid any awkward conversations or potential risks to the Statute of Secrecy?

It's also clear that Hermione's one persistent girl indeed, as evidenced by yesterday evening's trip to a clothing shop in northern London. Here, she had helped select more than a few sets of clothing and pyjamas for Harry. But as bossy, obnoxious, and haughty as Hermione can be, Harry's well familiar with her softer side, and it certainly shows here at her home.

One particularly enjoyable moment comes on Tuesday afternoon as Harry and Hermione attempt to bake a small cake by following a cookbook's instructions. From arguments, to near fighting, to flour spilling across both students' unkempt hair, they bake on. Eventually, it appears that their efforts are destined for failure...

"Did you put in two teaspoons of vanilla extract, Harry?" asks Hermione while surveying their finished product. The 'cake' now sits atop the messy kitchen island with flour and dough scattered across the island's surface.

"Two? I thought it was four, and, uhm, I used tablespoons."

"Okay, and how much baking powder did you add, as I've asked?"

"13.4 Teaspoons," responds Harry, to which Hermione sighs, rests her head on his shoulder, then groans loudly.

"Next time, look properly; it's one and three-quarters, Harry! Oh, and someone needs to clean all this up... It's just the island, floor, countertops, sink, and oven that are messy"

"Oh no, please not me." Harry takes a seat at the kitchen island, then rests his head in his arms.

"Well, I certainly don't want to slave away at this mess."

"But I'm your guest and you're the one that suggested we try and bake a cake together," says Harry, his voice somewhat muffled in his arms. He soon looks up as Hermione stands right beside him in the centre of the kitchen.

"What will it take to have you clean up this mammoth mess?"

"A kiss on the lips?"

"We're too young for that; there are still plenty of years left at school. Next suggestion?"

Harry pauses for thought before answering. "When we're at the Burrow and they play Quidditch, then I want you on my side and not Ronald's. Deal?"

"Deal; now get cleaning A.S.A.P, just in case mum and dad come home early." Hermione retrieves all the necessary cleaning equipment and hands them over to a sighing Harry. "Hehe, enjoy!"

An hour of hard work commences for Harry as he vacuums, scrubs, and mops nearly the entire kitchen. Its porcelain tiles, granite countertops, and expensive oven soon regain their shine. As much as he hates wasting food, Harry knows the cake is a hopeless case and wraps it up before throwing it in the bin outside.

"Nope, sorry; that thing is in no way edible, I'm afraid," says Harry, as Crookshanks looks up at him from beside the bin. "You'll get sick from all that baking powder, wait, why am I even talking to a cat?"

It amazes him how Crookshanks appears to almost understand his words. Then again, Hermione had mentioned her cat being half-Kneazle and therefore smarter than a mere feline. But the manner in which Crookshanks simply meows then turns to walk away makes Harry laugh.

"Alright, you have a nice day too, little guy. Go catch mice or something." Tired from cleaning and scrubbing, Harry heads inside once more for a quick nap in his room.

Late afternoon arrives, and Harry climbs out of bed to reunite with a studious Hermione in the living room. "Oh no you don't, Miss Granger! Getting a headstart on me, eh?"

"By all means, go fetch your books and come join in on the academic environment," says Hermione.

Harry beams with a smile from getting to spend more time in Hermione's company. "Alright, Transfiguration and Potions for the rest of today?"

"Yes, let's go for the hard stuff back-to-back!" Hermione puts on a determined expression while reading through another textbook. "Then we can finish our assignments nice and early before Christmas."

The rest of Harry and Hermione's afternoon is spent studying and beginning their holiday assignments. By late evening, half their Transfiguration as well as Potions essays have already been completed. This certainly pleases Hermione's parents upon their return from work. Then, following a hefty helping of dinner, both students toil away to complete their Transfiguration essays before moving on to Astronomy.

"Hey, think we could go outside for this one?" asks Harry, after having settled himself for bedtime already.

"Astronomy essay beneath the stars? Definitely!"

With books, parchments, ink bottles, and quills in hand, Harry and Hermione step out onto the sizable back porch. The skies are clear, giving the yard a relaxing shade of night blue which pleases Harry as he looks up and smiles. "Romantic, isn't it?

"Academic it sure is; now, let's get a tiny bit of light here." Hermione switches on and adjusts the yard light to a sufficient setting. "You alright? Vision okay?"

"No need to stress over poor little me."

Working in the comfort of a fairly well lit yard proves quite productive for both students; their Astronomy essays soon half completed by two o'clock in the morning. For Harry, a quick glance left has him softly laughing as Hermione rests her head on his shoulder. This morning's advantage goes to Harry, given his afternoon nap, as he stays up writing until past three o'clock. By now, a soft snore right beside his ear indicates that Hermione's fallen asleep with her dried quill still in hand.

"Oi, Hermione, wake up and get this stuff done already."

"Huh, what?" She stirs and sit upright once more. "Oh, right, my bad; let's power through the morning, Harry! If we plan things right, we can complete more than just Astronomy out here."

After a night of hard work right up until Wednesday morning, both students finally return to their rooms where they sleep until noon. But one glance at their completed Transfiguration, Astronomy and even Potions assignments makes it all worth it. They yawn widely and stretch themselves out before heading to the first-floor bathroom entrance.

"Good afternoon," says Harry, "Haha! You hardly look any different than usual now; all fresh out of bed."

"Same to you then. So, uh, ladies first?"

"I'll just use the one downstairs, simple. If not for the Trace, then I could have just let go right here and vanish the evidence."

Hermione grimaces at this remark. "Oh gross! But it wasn't too long ago that Hogwarts had no toileting facilities, so that was how they did it right in the hallways or whenever. As for me, well, I'm keeping up with the modern age. So, move aside, Harry."

While Hermione takes her sweet time in the first-floor bathroom, Harry rushes to freshen up downstairs. Once finished, he returns to the first-floor and knocks on the bathroom door where the sounds of a running shower can be heard. "How may I serve my noble Granger at this hour?"

"You're welcome to grab the hosepipe and start doing the front of our house," says Hermione.

There's no reason not to oblige his friend as Harry spends the next half an hour sprinkling water across thick shrubs, trees and grass. With the tap opened only slightly, he knows it'll save the Grangers' water bill on this surprisingly warm winter's afternoon. Once all the greenery have received a healthy dose of water, Harry heads inside to turn off the tap and roll up the hose. His chores seemingly finished for now before he leans to peek into the kitchen. "All done, you want me to do the yard as well?"

"Nope, but I must admit that it almost makes me feel bad for taking advantage of you like this, Harry. Have a seat right here."

Harry does as asked and ends up feeling Hermione's hands on his neck and shoulders. "A Mugglebabe's massage, nice."

"You sure are immensely tensed up!" says Hermione, before ruffling Harry's hair as she smiles. "Good, now if you'll excuse me, I've got two essays I'd like to finish before Friday; don't wish to have work hanging by Christmas."

"No problem, mind if I use your phone?" asks Harry.

"Sure, knock yourself out. Just don't disturb me, alright? I'll be busy until this evening."

Mere seconds later sees Harry speaking on the telephone: "...Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging. Anonymous, please. Yes, could you leave 'Happy Christmas to an upstanding family' on the card? Thanks. Yeah, I'll have payment dropped off by tonight. Cool, enjoy your day too."

After ending the call, Harry knows that his gift will certainly be accepted without question; no doubt Uncle Vernon wouldn't bother to call up each and every possible source of the treats. They'd simply be wolfed down in no time. And speaking of food... Harry once again cooks up sausages and eggs before heading upstairs and knocking on Hermione's door, which is viciously yanked open.

"I thought I asked you not to—"

"Food for the bookworm," he says, holding out a bottle of juice in addition to his meal.

"Oh, alright, thank you so much," replies Hermione, whose scowl softens to a slight smile as she grabs the meal and shuts the door. With over an hour to go until Hermione's parents return to settle in, Harry decides to head to the backyard. And as soon as he steps onto the porch, Crookshanks comes racing towards him.

"What's that? Someone wants to play? Alright kitty cat, let's go!" To Harry's amazement, Crookshanks suddenly begins sprinting in circles around him; his bottlebrush tail up in the air. Thinking that he's timed it right, Harry leaps to the side but fails to grab the cat. Instead, he lands on a nearby patch of grass before Crookshanks leaps atop him. The purring cat playfully kneads its paws on Harry's side, although its claws do scratch a fair bit. "I'm not your pile of dough, come here!"

Leaping up to his feet, Harry sprints in pursuit of Crookshanks across the sizable lush yard. The cat easily outrunning him before climbing up a nearby tree.

"That ain't fair, boy. Wha—?" Harry sidesteps to evade a soft stone pushed off the branch by Crookshanks. "Oh, now it's on!" He then tries climbing the tree, with mixed results before falling down onto his back, and looking up at a blurry mix of grey skies. "Damn, where's my glasses?"

He rolls over to see an orange blur approaching from the side, which soon sits down near his face. With his hand outstretched, Harry feels his glasses placed onto it by the cat as it headbutts him.

"Headbutting me? Oh that takes courage, little bushy kitty," says Harry, before resuming his chase after Crookshanks. Half an hour of dashing across the yard later, Harry looks up and sees an amused Hermione standing at a first-floor window before walking away. But a nudge to his leg immediately has him chasing after Crookshanks until Harry finally settles down to catch his breath, and the cat now curling up on his lap. "Finished playing now, Crooky?"

A soft meow is heard as the cat decides to remain curled up as Harry sits on a bench beside the back door. His strokes along Crookshanks' fur has it purring ever so gently while taking a nap.

"Eat, sleep, play, I like your style." Harry leans back on the bench and simply looks up at the cloudy skies. Although the air has turned chilly, he simply waits it out until 5pm while Crookshanks remains on his lap, its tail occasionally swishing from side to side.

The back door eventually opens as Hermione speaks. "Oh, look at the two of you! Aren't you boys getting cold out here?"

"I think he's pretty chilled out already, if you get my meaning," says Harry, gently scratching Crookshanks behind the cat's ears. "Now, watch this."

He picks up the cat, then kisses it on the forehead before Crookshanks decides to leap off and walk away.

"How cute," giggles Hermione. "But really, I'd suggest coming inside already."

"Okay, but what about your essays?" asks Harry.

"Already finished with Runes, and Muggle Studies will be a piece of cake. To think I have to write about why Muggle fashion moves so rapidly compared to Wizards'... that's so easy."

"If you need a fashion model, I'm right here," says Harry.

Shaking her head, Hermione heads inside with Harry following behind and shutting the door. They spend the next hour in her room until the assignment's completed at around 6pm. Now comes another session of 'flying' practice before it's time for an evening of TV and dinner. For Harry, this is indeed a refreshing change as he's used to watching alongside the Dursleys. Speaking of whom...

"Sir, if I may..."

"Go on," says Mr. Granger, and Harry explains about his order. "Alright, fair enough. Give me the cash and I'll make a stop quickly."

To Harry's surprise, Mr. Granger takes the amount owed to the food store and returns home in just over an hour. The favour done remarkably quick, just as Hermione would be willing to lend a hand when needed.

"Oh come on, for real? They're still showing this on TV?" asks Harry, upon seeing a public service announcement with regards to the escaped convict.

Hermione scoffs as she lays on a couch with her feet upon Harry's lap. "Sirius Black; as if he'd bother with the Muggle world, um, no offense, mum and dad."

"I'm surprised your people haven't caught him yet, what with all the miracles you folks can perform," admits Mrs. Granger.

"Yes, well, the problem is that he's a wizard too; 'miracles' can therefore come from both sides," says Harry, unfazed by the prospect of Black supposedly being after him.

"The law always wins, usually," says Mr. Granger. "It's only a matter of time before this Black is found out by someone, somewhere."

"Alright, time for bed, you two. Because tomorrow we'll set everything up, lights and all," declares Mrs. Granger, as Hermione's parents have taken leave from work until December's end.

"Don't you think we should at least rather stay here until Friday afternoon, Hermione? I mean, wouldn't it be silly to head to the Burrow right on Christmas morning? What about here?" asks Harry.

"If it really bothers you that I'm not spending all Christmas here, then we'll leave at noon on Friday, okay?" asks Hermione.

"Yeah, pity I left Hedwig at school. Now I can't send a message to Ginny," admits Harry.

"Then she'll just have to wait for us to arrive. Besides, I've already arranged for Ron to meet us at the Leaky Cauldron," says Hermione.

"Ah, so we'll Floo to them, eh? Why not do it here?"

"Um, I forgot that we're not actually connected to the Floo network here, Harry. The Ministry forbids Muggle fireplaces from being linked unless for absolute emergencies."

"Avoiding Ronald is an absolute emergency for me," says a snorting Harry.

"If we're going to be spending a week there, then at least try to be civil," scolds Hermione.

"Fine."

They now head upstairs, and to their separate rooms, for a much-deserved night's sleep. Both Harry and Hermione enjoy a peaceful snooze before waking up to their first assignment-free day together. Thursday is spent with the pair doing some light reading, and Hermione finally agreeing to spend more time outdoors.

After much of their day is spent setting up Christmas decorations, Harry and Hermione stroll down the street towards a nearby park. Without the threat of Dudley around, Harry is finally able to completely unwind and relax. And it certainly isn't long until both students lay side-by-side to gaze up at the cloudy skies above on a noisy, but lovely, Thursday afternoon.


	20. From London to the Burrow

By Christmas Eve, the Grangers' home comes alive with much celebration and early opening of some presents. Indeed, Harry hadn't simply withdrawn a full 300 Pounds for mere acts of kindness towards the Dursleys.

"This one's for you," he says, handing over a few boxes to a startled Hermione. While standing beside their Christmas tree, she swiftly opens it and beams.

"Trainers, jeans, and a top? I didn't expect you to go all Muggle on me here. Well, I've also gotten you something but it's laying at the Burrow now. Couldn't risk the Muggles seeing it at the post office."

Further gifts are left unopened until Christmas morning, where Harry and Hermione awake for a day of enthusiastic celebration. As noon approaches, Hermione hugs her parents before Harry shakes Mr. Granger's hand to bid farewell. Both students then grab their trunks and are taken to the Leaky Cauldron. Here, Harry leads the way through the packed tavern. Both he and Hermione force their way past many folks before finally stopping at a table near a fireplace.

Having waited nearly an hour, Ron Weasley smiles upon seeing Hermione. "It's great to see you without that bloody cat for a change!"

"Happy Christmas, Ron," she replies, willing to overlook the Crookshanks insult for once.

"Ronald," greets Harry stiffly.

"Potter."

Hermione sighs. "For Christmas and Holidays' sake,  _try_  to be friendly towards each other. Remember all the stuff we went through over the past two years?" Her eyes dart from Harry, dressed in his newly gifted Muggle wear, to Ron, dressed in his usual Weasley Christmas jumper.

"No funny moves around Ginny; you hear, Potter?"

"What? Scared I might steal your sister?"

"Would both of you just shut the hostilities so we can head to the Burrow? Let's go already!" Hermione grabs some floo powder and clearly states her destination before Harry and Ron follow suit.

In what feels like moments later, and following an uncomfortable journey through the floo network, Harry steps out the fireplace and into the Burrow's living room. "To hell with this floo crap."

"HAPPY CHRISTMAS!"

He looks up, briefly startled, at the mass of Weasleys gathered around the ground floor of the Burrow. They stand in a semi-circle with crackers in hand and smiles upon their faces. Before Harry can take even a step forward, he finds himself grabbed into a hug by Mrs. Weasley then shakes hands with an excited Mr. Weasley. Fred and George soon follow through by enthusiastically shoving a lightweight gift in his hands.

"Don't open it until tomorrow; meet us in the broomshed at noon then," whispers George.

Bill and Charlie Weasley subsequently shake Harry's hand and wish him well for his stay here. Then, finally, it's Ron's turn to step forward as he sighs and swiftly shakes Harry's hand before muttering, "Happy Christmas," as fast as possible.

"Where's Percy?" asks Harry, causing a brief moment of awkward silence before Mrs. Weasley speaks.

"Ginny, come and greet our guest."

"Coming, mum!" says a cheerful voice before Ginny bolts downstairs. "Um, Happy Christmas, Harry."

Being one to rarely miss such opportunities, Harry grabs her by the hand then pulls a yelping Ginny into a friendly hug. "Happy Christmas, my rival Seeker."

"Hey—"

"Oh be quiet, Ronald," mutters Mrs. Weasley. "If Harry Potter wants to hug your sister for Christmas, then perhaps think of it as a gift."

"Speaking of gift..." Harry slips an envelope into Mr. Weasley's hands. "I thought you might appreciate something from the Muggle world, sir."

"Oh, you did? That's quite nice! I wonder what it—" he pauses upon opening the envelope to reveal a £5 note.

"Seriously? Is this an insult, Potter?" asks Ron, quite upset at seeing someone giving them money for Christmas. If not for Harry's true meaning behind the gift, one could consider Ron's anger justified.

"For God's sake, Ronald, don't take this the wrong way," says a sighing Harry.

"Muggle paper money! Molly, look at this!" Mr. Weasley beams while holding up the note in absolute awe. "I believe they call this one a 'fiver', correct?"

"If you had gotten this one wrong, Arthur, I would've been worried. There's literally a 'five' written on it," says Mrs. Weasley. "Now, let's all have lunch at the table."

Ginny grabs Harry by the hand and squeezes in as much a tour as possible before lunch. "Mum managed to get a couple more chairs at the table for today; I'm sure we can all fit in." She then proceeds to explain about the Burrow's interior and exterior in swift detail.

"My head! Far too much information, far too soon." Harry eventually joins the feast which feels similar to those at Hogwarts, given how Mrs. Weasley's adorned the table. "Hermione, might I dish for you?"

"Awfully nice, huh?"

"Dish for me too, please?" asks Ginny, to which Harry laughs.

"Sure thing, little one."

Once finished serving on the girls at his side, Harry sits back and enjoys his meal; the lively atmosphere not letting up even with stuffed mouths and filled plates. All across the table comes chatter and jokes, until an owl flies right into the kitchen to deposit a letter beside Harry's plate.

"Oh, come on!" sighs Harry.

"That's a school owl," says Hermione, and all chatting stops as the rest of the table looks at Harry. "Well, open it already, Harry!"

He pulls out a parchment while the owl nibbles away at bits of food given by Hermione. Clearing his throat, Harry now reads:

_"Potter,_

_I've intercepted an anonymous present addressed to you in the common room. Further inspection reveals a genuine, if not suspicious, Firebolt_.

_We suspect that such an expensive gift might've been from Sirius Black, who'd likely be aware of your interest in Quidditch. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and I are currently preparing the broom to be stripped down and examined for anything suspicious._

_Head of Slytherin_ ,

_Severus Snape."_

"He didn't even wish you Happy Christmas," says Hermione, with a slightly saddened expression.

"Sending this letter is enough, I guess." Harry sees numerous looks of curiosity from those gathered around the table. "But why did he have to ruin the surprise present?"

"Looks like Black finally realized that you're not a Gryffindor. Blimey, a  _Firebolt_..." says Ron. "That's absolutely mad!"

"Oliver's gonna freak out so badly when he hears about this," says Fred, much to the sheer disbelief of the rest.

"No way in bloody hell!" says Ginny. "A genuine, proper, expensive FIREBOLT? Who in their right mind would mail someone something like that?"

"Calm down there, young one," replies Harry, while in fits of laughter as he gently pulls the standing girl back onto her chair. "Relax, chill, have a biscuit."

"Mighty fine broom indeed," says Charlie. "I'd bet someone could outmanoeuvre a dragon on that thing!"

"No need for such exaggeration," says an amused Mr. Weasley, the fiver neatly sticking out from his jacket pocket.

Naturally, Harry beams with excitement. "If it really is a Firebolt, then I'd love to try and outfly a dragon. Bring 'em on, I ain't scared!"

Laughter echoes around the table, although Mrs. Weasley appears quite concerned. "That's far too dangerous, Harry. And besides, Charlie was just speaking hypothetically. Right?"

"Yes, mum."

"I'm more concerned about Professor Snape's suspicions. Think of him however you want, but he's a smart one when it comes to foul play..." says Mrs. Weasley.

Ginny pipes up, eager to get her say in the matter. "Nothing's going to happen to Harry. I need him safe and sound so I can beat him to the Snitch next year and thereafter."

"You'd better watch out for her," says George, as the twins flash their eyebrows at Harry.

"Let's all calm down and wait until we go back, alright?" asks Hermione.

"I agree; let's take it easy until January," says Mrs. Weasley.

"Neeeeeerd, Granger," whispers both Fred and George across the table at a haughty Hermione.

"Nothing to say on the matter, dear? You are a curse-breaker after all," says Mrs. Weasley, while looking at Bill seated to her right.

"Oh, I was just wondering what could be on that broom if Sirius Black is indeed its sender. Nasty things could happen."

"How nasty?" asks Harry.

"Besides suddenly stopping or snapping in mid-air, well, it could take off on its own; lead you right into a trap somewhere with Black. It could fly straight into the ground, stands, goal hoops, you get the idea. It could set itself alight in a timely manner, and with you on it. Then there are many other curses which could catch you on that broom... let me not ruin our jolly vibe here, eh?"

"Darn, um, wow," admits Harry.

"Sorry, pessimistic thinking is part of the job; can't be too careful with the Dark Arts these days," says Bill.

"If it really is a Firebolt, which turns out to be clean, then Slytherin's definitely going to win this House Cup. Not fair at all," says Ron.

"It's about more than just the broom," says Charlie. "Speaking of which, let's have ourselves a bit of a flying duel later on. How about you kids test your skills against Gryffindor's finest?"

Ginny grins cheekily. "He means me, by the way."

"I'm all for that, heck yes!" adds Harry, before noting that he has neither broom nor Snitch with him.

"Don't worry; we've got old brooms in the shed. Nothing fancy like you youngsters are used to," says Charlie. "So, it'll be a matter of skill since we're all flying the same thing. As for the Snitch..."

He produces a look-alike of the Golden Snitch, complete with wings and all.

"Bought it in Romania; it's not as nimble as a true Snitch but it'll fly around the Burrow well enough. Should give us a nice little challenge."

Gift-opening takes place after lunch as everyone makes their way to the Burrow's living room area. Here, Harry observes his surroundings which include a comfy couch, more than a few armchairs, a rather large fireplace, bookshelves and, most noticeably, a strange clock depicting the status of each Weasley family member. The front door leads out to where Harry sees a blue Ford Anglia parked beside the house.

His focus eventually returns to the pile of presents laid out across the room, and he now opens one sent by Hermione. "A Broomstick Servicing Kit? You know me far too well by now, Mugglebabe."

"Open my gift already, come on!" says Ginny, whose present turns out to be a comfortable pair of woolly gloves. In exchange, she receives a Broomstick Servicing Kit, and a rather fancy hairbrush. "Oh, this is perfect, Harry!"

Elsewhere, Hermione thanks Ron for a boxful of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans before Harry whispers. "I'm only doing this for you, that's why Ronald's gotten some more gifts."

Hermione turns around and whispers, "Really? I suppose that's still a nice thing to do. So, what did you get him?"

"A dozen liquorice wands, three boxes of Every Flavour Beans, and six Chocolate Frogs. Don't you dare say it's from me, got it?"

"Fine, I'll take the credit. Still, that was exceptionally good of you, Harry James Potter."

"Hmph, like I said: only did it for you."

"If you say so." Hermione now turns to walk towards Ron, although not before looking at Harry over her shoulder. "You're a better person than some might think."

"What does that mean? Am I missing something here?" asks Ginny, glancing quizzically at Hermione across the living room."

"Never mind that, little Seeker. How about you show me that broomshed of yours? I'd like to see what we'll all be flying later on."

"Cleansweep Fives, though Ron has a terribly slow Shooting Star parked among them. By the way, rival Seeker, there are still a few more gifts left here," says Ginny, pointing towards a few packages laying about.

"You open that one, and I'll open these." Harry picks up a rather soft gift which turns out to be a knitted emerald jumper. "Wow, did your mum make this?"

"Mm-hmm, it's a thank you gift for all the things you've done for me. I even convinced her to make a little snake over there." Ginny points to a silver serpent on the chest area; no bigger than the palm of her hand. "I think that colour goes really well with your eyes."

"Good thing there's no letter on it like you guys get," says Harry.

"Oh, mum's not stupid. She knows the Slytherins might pick on you for wearing something similar to Ron. So, she kept it nice and simple," says Ginny, before opening a rather large box of treats. "What the heck? Who sent all these sweets? My gosh, that's about a dozen Chocolate Frog packages!"

Harry glances at the card and smiles upon reading Millicent and Sally-Anne's names. "I wonder who sent the rest of these?" He now picks up the last of his presents: a woolly beanie from Daphne, new Quidditch armguards from Tracey, and a grey neck scarf from Pansy.

There's also a smaller package beneath the rest which happens to be a book on intermediate Chaser skills, gifted from Marcus Flint. Harry swiftly hides it away to maintain the surprise of him coming out as Chaser against Ravenclaw.

By late afternoon, the sun nears the horizon which leaves Charlie's challenge postponed until tomorrow morning. It also appears that Bill's required back at Gringotts as soon as possible, since the goblins insist on having another curse-breaker back to deal with the rush of festive season.

"Just one question, if I may?" asks Harry, while spending the evening in the living room. "Where are Hermione and I going to sleep?"

"Uh, well, you're not welcome in my room," says Ron, to which his mother admonishes him for 'rude' behaviour. Fred and George's room already appears quite full, and Percy seems to have stayed at school anyway. To everyone's surprise, however, Ginny admits that she's willing to share her room with Harry.

"Ginny, you can't have a boy in your room at this age," says Mrs. Weasley. "And where would Hermione be sharing then, if not with you?"

"But, mum, I really don't want to be sharing my room with  _him_ ," insists Ron.

After much debate and scolding, it's decided that Bill would remain sharing in Ron's room. Meanwhile, Fred and George will stick to their room while Harry and Charlie are to share Percy's. Then, Hermione is to share with Ginny in the latter's room.

"All sorted? Good," says Mrs. Weasley as everyone begins to freshen up for the night. While the rest of the household scatters about, Harry whispers to Ginny in the kitchen.

"Try not to eye me when I come out the shower, little lion."

She gasps, furiously blushes, then looks up at him with a slight scowl. "Hmph, I'll show you what's what tomorrow morning. Gonna beat you to the Snitch, big snake."

"Oh yes,  _big snake_  indeed," he laughs, enjoying the look of sheer embarrassment on Ginny's face. "I'm just teasing you, relax. But really, Ronald is quite rude and that's regardless of my attitude towards him. I'm still a guest in your people's house, remember?"

"You're both at fault; I'm not gonna try and take any side in that confrontation. Still, I would've loved to have you in my room, Harry. Dunno why you have to be in  _Percy's_  room. He doesn't even care about us to come home for Christmas." Ginny grabs a biscuit and passes it to Harry as the latter stands in the kitchen doorway.

"Thanks! Yeah, I'm really sorry about that; I sure as hell wouldn't dump such a lovely family like yours. Heck, my family is just about barely tolerable and I still, sort of, love them," says Harry.

By late evening, after watching everyone sing their Christmas carols once more, Harry heads to Percy's room on the second floor of the Burrow. Barely an hour later sees him laying in bed while the second is taken up by Charlie. Their conversation soon settling upon Quidditch and dragons.

"Ginny's told us quite a bit about your Seeker skills, I must say. But how good do you reckon you can be when on level terms? Same broom as the opponent, I mean?" asks Charlie.

"Haven't really thought about that since I've always had the broom advantage. But does it really matter? Because most of the time the speed and response benefits are only a marginal improvement for me."

"That's where you're wrong. I hear you've started out on a 2000 then moved to a 2001. Compare that to stuff like Shooting Stars, Cleansweeps, or the Comet series, you've always held quite an advantage. But tomorrow don't feel bad if things don't go your way. In fact, I think it'll be a good experience for you to battle on level terms. Who knows? You might just need it someday," says Charlie.

"How much longer are you going to stay here? I'd appreciate any advice and lessons you could give."

"Well, they're only expecting me back in Romania by Monday, so there's the whole weekend still. Unlike Bill who works alongside those horrible goblins."

"Shame, but I suppose he's got a good enough job. Anyway, tell me something about dragons, since you work with them."

"What would you like to know? The questions I often get are how to fight them, have you ridden one, or what's the nicest or worst breed," admits Charlie.

"I like that last one, what's the worst breed of dragon?" asks Harry, eager to learn about something new.

Charlie whistles to himself before going through various names, "But there's one type that certainly makes the list. Oh boy, the Hungarian Horntail is a nasty one indeed. I've seen ones that can shoot flames out to forty feet when most dragons only do twenty."

"Damn, double the range huh?"

"Twice the aggression too, they're fiercely competitive, protective, and hostile to even their own kind. I pity the untrained person who runs into one of these."

"So, how does one fight a dragon? Since you said people often ask you this."

"Just run, don't be brave if you value your life. However, if push comes to shove, you gotta hit 'em in the eyes or, if you're really lucky, gotta him 'em hard in the mouth. Good luck to the poor soul who's gotta fight a dragon, never mind the type of dragon too. That counts for a lot, and all of their hides are quite resistant to magic. Still, it's a real blast to work with them."

"Yeah, I can tell that you're quite passionate about the subject," says Harry.

"Sorry if I over-explained, tends to be a habit when I get in the mood to talk about them. Anyway, let's get some sleep, tomorrow's time to let out the old Seeker skills again."

 


	21. Lessons in the Air

_The Burrow, December 26th, 1993._

After a lively morning in the kitchen, and eating a hefty bit of breakfast, Harry soon finds himself in the Weasleys' broomshed. It's certainly far less clean and cosy than the one at school, since there are spider webs and dirt everywhere. He now grabs a rather dated Cleansweep Five, as do Ginny and Charlie.

"Well, here's the deal; I'm gonna release this thing and we all cover our eyes, alright? No peeking, especially you, Ginny," says Charlie, now standing at the broomshed's entrance.

"Get on with it already, so I can beat Harry as soon as possible, oh and you of course," she replies, to which her brother scoffs.

"Chasing a Snitch is difficult but child's play compared to working with dragons."

"Alright, I'm feeling it now. Win or lose, this'll be excellent! I'm not gonna go easy on y—" Harry stops before gasping at the doorway in surprise. It takes both Ginny and him a few seconds to register what they're seeing, while Charlie simply shrugs.

"Cool, come join the party, anyone else out there?"

With the winter sun shining behind her in the doorway, Hermione stands looking fairly apprehensive. She fiddles with her thumbs before glancing at Harry. "No, not for your little game. But, could I join? I'm not that great on a broom at all; just thought I'd fly alongsi—"

Ginny scoffs. "Um, no offense, Hermione, but this is gonna be really competitive. You might hurt yourself, and Ron's said you're dreadful on a broom. Maybe you could join us later when we all play together?"

"Maybe you're right, I suppose." Hermione lowers her gaze to the broomshed's floor.

"Feel free to join, so long as you don't mind lagging behind," says Harry. His grin immediately lifting Hermione's spirits.

"Like I care; you three can show off all you want. I'm just here for the broom."

"Alright, the Snitch is out the door so let's go catch it!" declares Charlie, before all four mount their Cleansweeps and take off to the outdoors. The dated broom immediately feels odd for Harry as he briefly struggles to adapt.

"Haha! We're already chasing after it!" says Ginny, now flying beside Charlie as both Seekers pursue their glittering target.

"You alright back there?" asks Harry, looking over his shoulder at Hermione coming up from behind.

"Y-Yes, just getting used to the heights up here again!"

"Oh God, please don't fall off; I'm not so good at Cushioning Charms yet. Crap, I can't let Ginny beat me here!" Harry picks up speed while Hermione tries to push on.

"You and that little Seeker, argh! Underage magic is illegal outside school and the train anyway," she replies with a groan. Her broom now moving forward to fly beside Harry.

"That's the spirit, Miss Granger. Fly with the wind in your hair but don't let the birds nest in that bush," laughs Harry as he pats Hermione on her head. In return, he gets a slap to the shoulder.

"Be quiet, I'm concentrating!"

"Feel free to focus on my arse when I'm ahead of you."

"Shut up," groans Hermione. She now speeds forward while Harry races to approach the two Weasleys ahead.

"Was wondering where you've been," says Ginny as she, Harry, and Charlie now follow the movements of the Snitch. They jostle in the air, attempt to follow at a better angle, and race ahead through the nearby orchard. Then, Harry begins to take an advantage against Ginny as he dips beneath her while following the Snitch at a dive, although Charlie's already a few metres ahead.

Without any broom advantage, they rely solely on skill to race ahead. All four attempt to slalom through the trees, with mixed results, before heading back towards the house (with Hermione lagging behind). They now battle for the Snitch as Ginny and Harry dive under an extension of roofing which Charlie opts to fly over. However, the Snitch suddenly does a complete turnaround and flies over all three Seekers.

They spin around, as fast as their sluggish brooms will allow, as the Snitch dives low before zipping straight towards the oncoming Hermione.

"Wait, WHAT?" Harry balks as Hermione scoops up the Snitch and falls a couple of metres onto the grass.

"Are you kidding me?" Ginny appears equally as confused as Harry while Charlie just shakes his head.

"Haha, well, I guess it doesn't fully behave like a real Snitch. It's close enough but the real thing would've avoided her. I guess Hermione Granger wins this round."

"I'm so confused, did she just beat us to the Golden Snitch?" asks a gawking Harry, to which Ginny shakes her head.

"Just... sheer dumb luck. I dunno what to say."

Meanwhile, Harry dives down to land beside an equally bewildered Hermione. "I'm so confused at this, seriously. That was a rubbish catch but you still caught it. Darn, I..."

But Hermione takes one look up at him, smiles, then holds the Snitch right in his face. "Mwahahaha! Replica or not, inaccurate trajectory movements or not, I've still BEATEN YOU, Harry! I've bested you too, Charlie, and I defeated you, Ginny!"

"Hermione, that was luck," admits Harry, standing outside the house.

"Woohooo! I still beat you!" She hops up and down in a truly childish expression of victory.

"That wasn't even accurate to a real Snitch! No way would any real one just fly right up to a person like tha—" Harry sighs as Hermione continues to gloat her unorthodox victory.

"I beat you, Mister Potter."

"Come on, this is childish now."

"I beat you!"

Soon enough, Ron and the twins exit the house and howl with laughter at the strange turn of events.

"Wait WHAT?  _She_  caught the Snitch before you three?" asks Ron, after Ginny and Charlie's explained what's occurred. "But she's absolutely terrible on a broom. I mean, like, almost  _useless_. A garden gnome could outfly her."

Hermione swiftly glares at Ron before Harry pats her on the shoulder. "Don't listen to him; at least all our bedroom sessions have paid off."

"Oh, who am I kidding? It was stupid luck anyway," says a sighing Hermione.

"Come on, bushy bookworm, you beat me to the Snitch," says Harry, before Hermione shoves the Snitch into his hands.

"Go and enjoy yourself with those two; I'll be inside."

Desperate to see Hermione happy again, Harry grabs her hands. "No, please don't cry! Look, I'll, um, take your spot in the de-gnoming that Mrs. Weasley asked us to do. And I'll take up all your chores here, okay?"

"That'd be lovely, thanks." Hermione sniffs then nods her head. But as soon as Harry turns his back on her, she wipes her tears and grins mischievously.

For the next few hours, Harry competes against Charlie and ends up being beaten twice in a row to the Snitch. It helps that Charlie's vastly superior in the air compared to a practice partner like Draco Malfoy, and this proves far more beneficial than any Quidditch practice session thus far. Finally, by his third attempt, Harry swipes the Snitch on its dive in the garden.

"Not bad at all; I'm certainly impressed by your diving abilities, Harry. Make sure you're always on high alert especially for trick techniques like the Wronski Feint."

Harry nods. "Noted, so can we have another few rounds of practice?"

"No problem, although Ginny's gonna have a tougher time against you with all this practice. Never figured I'd be helping Slytherin to the Cup."

"Ironic, isn't it?"

"Well, when you're out of school you tend to almost forget about House rivalries and focus on the bigger world out there," says Charlie.

"The world here's big enough for me already. Dark Lord and all that stuff," says Harry, to which Charlie nods in agreement.

"Yeah, I can imagine. Do you know about the Death Eaters and all that?"

Harry nods, already having previously discussed them quite a few times.

"Before anyone tells you that all your Housemates are related to them, don't forget there's a difference between 'Death Eater' and just a supporter of You-Know-Who. The former are those with the Dark Marks, which I heard people didn't even know about back in the day; they're like the big shot villains. Then you get those without the Marks who are just inclined to be pro-You-Know-Who."

Both Seekers spend the next few hours battling for the Snitch before finally ending the session with Harry totalling 3 catches to Charlie's 5. Then, by late afternoon, Harry meets up with Fred and George in the broomshed where they stand with his opened gift in hand.

"A piece of parchment? Seriously?" Harry immediately retracts his scepticism upon seeing the Marauder's Map. The prospect of having the entirety of Hogwarts laid out before him proves almost mind-boggling indeed.

"Cool, huh? Yeah, take your time to soak it all in because we know it's like," says Fred. "Been using this since nicking it from Filch's office years ago."

"What should I use it for?" asks Harry.

"Dunno, that's your choice. Or you could just keep it as a reminder that you did some good for us," says George. "Just don't be a prat and discuss the Map with everyone, alright?"

"Well, I guess I owe you 3 Sickles for our bet, George. Percy really was in the library all damn morning," says Fred, glancing at his twin after handing over the Map.

"About that, I'm sorry you folks are missing—"

"Nah, don't stress," says George. "We're pretty much used to that Ministry-worshipping git's absence by now. Alright, let's finish that  _thing_  we got planned for Percy, eh?"

"Yeah," says Fred.

"What thing?"

"Just because Percy's not home, and doesn't care about us, doesn't mean he'd escape a Christmas gift. Hope he doesn't mind a bed full of dragon dung at the start of term. Oh and when you're done with that map, do this..."

Harry observes the Map being concealed via 'Mischief Managed' and a tap of a wand. As he looks up from the blank parchment, the twins swiftly return to their house before any questions are raised.

"Hmm, might as well...  _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._ "

Harry picks out various sections of the school before seeing Flitwick, Snape, and McGonagall dotted together in the Charms classroom.

"Mischief Managed."

With little of interest on the Map, Harry folds it neatly into his deep jeans pocket and returns to the house. Here, he resumes both his and Hermione's chores as promised earlier.

"Goodness, you certainly don't have to do this much work," says Mrs. Weasley, as Harry cleans the dishes after he'd already helped Ginny de-gnome the garden outside. "I'm sure I've asked Hermione to do those dishes..."

"I'll finish them for her," says Harry, which earns him a big smile. Half an hour later, Hermione comes up to whisper a 'thank you' in Harry's ear that makes cleaning after nearly a dozen folks worth it.

Once everyone's tucked in for the night, Harry ends up grabbed into a tight squeeze of a hug on the first-floor landing.

"Good night, and don't let the bugs bite," says Hermione.

"Yeah, yeah; hope you enjoyed sitting on your arse studying Runes while I did all the hard work today." With little else left to do, Harry eventually drifts off to sleep. The Marauder's Map now lays securely hidden beneath his books as a mere piece of parchment in his trunk.

 


	22. The Patronus Charm

After an afternoon of Quidditch practice, Harry's night is spent dreaming up the past. Now, a rather rushed version of when he and Ron had fled, on foot, from Aragog's horde plays out.

"They're coming, they're everywhere! Do something!" yells a terrified Ron, while the acromantulas close in from behind.

"JUST SHUT THE HELL UP AND RUN," yells Harry in response.

But Ron suddenly trips and tumbles with a heavy thud. "My wand; Charlie's wand! It's snapped!"

Spiders close in as Ron is helped to feet. "For God's sake, you're supposed to be a GRYFFINDOR." Harry now draws his wand to cast the Fire-Making Charm. "Nature conservation, my arse.  _Incendio_!"

Jets of flame streak out from his wand, setting a surprisingly large section of grass alight. Soon, to his surprise, the spiders hastily back off and move portions of sand to protect their forest.

"It worked! You're a genius, Harry!" says Ron.

"Let's go, before they regroup."

Indeed, they sprint as fast as they can while hoping to exit the Forbidden Forest on the double. Adrenaline negates the burn in their legs as they flee past seemingly endless trees.

"THEY'RE BACK," screams Ron, as more acromantulas approach.

"Oh man, here goes nothing,  _Serpensortia!"_ Harry performs the spell thrice, conjuring up three serpents which are enlarged with the Growth Charm.

Next up, the scene skips forward to when Harry and Ron approach the forest's edge.

"I can see lights, Hogwarts' lights! Just a bit farthe—"

"Get down, Ronald!" yells Harry, before Ron swiftly leaps drops to the ground.

Looking up, Ron screams as an acromantula leaps over him and lands between the two students. Sheer terror makes Ron freeze on the ground, unable to even think straight. Meanwhile, the acromantula turns to face Harry, standing metres from him.

"Do, s-somet—" Ron can barely get the words out beyond mere squeals of terror while Harry's glances at his wand in sheer anxiety.

"Uh, well, there's this one mad spell I've been reading up on ever since first year—"

The acromantula moves forward towards Harry while Ron gapes. "Are you mad? Now's not the time to go trying new stuff! What s-spell?"

Harry's smacked aside after getting hit by the spider. "I'M NOT DYING TO A STUPID SPIDER! Motherfu—"

"Harry, move!" screams Ron, before seeing the acromantula narrowly miss after charging forward. "WHY ARE YOU THINKING AT A TIME LIKE THIS? JUST THROW ANYTHING AT IT."

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

A glimmer of green hits the acromantula in the face, causing blood to spew out from its eyes.

Ron sits up, slowly, and trembles in disbelief. "W-What?" Few words can be brought forth to describe his reaction. "What you been reading—"

"I'll try it again and again until this spider's DEAD! Just flippen DIE, you predator scum!"

Everything fades to a bright light as Harry awakes to the sounds of birds chirping outside. In addition, a blur of flaming red hair now stands beside Harry's bed in the morning.

"Overslept again, huh? Hermione said you're sometimes like a zombie in the morning."

"Wha..." Harry tries to sit up and reach for his glasses somewhere beside him.

"You're at my house, in case you've forgotten." Ginny giggles in delight. "Oh, and it's Sunday the 27th of December, 1993; anything else I need to remind you of?"

Everything clears as Ginny slips on Harry's glasses. Yawning, he moves to sit over the edge of the bed with his head in hands.

"What's the deal, Harry? Bad dream or something? I used to suffer ones from last year, you know."

Harry rubs his temples and stretches out. "Nah, I just had a bit of a flashback to May this year. Ha, nice little reminder of how terrified Ron is of spiders."

Ginny beams and swipes a plate from atop a nearby dresser. "I have just the thing to get you un-zombified this morning..." She presents a delectable muffin, topped with chocolate cream and cherries, while Harry remains leaning forward. "Oh what's wrong? Should I feed you too?"

"Why does almost every girl end up treating me like a baby. Or rather  _their_  baby?"

"Dunno; but if you're not going to eat my muffin, then go freshen up in the bathroom," says Ginny.

"Yeah, I'll eat your—" Harry immediately stops himself from making a lewd comment towards a 12 year old.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing, but thanks for the muffin anyway. You can leave it here while I get cleaned up."

They exit the room before Harry gets himself cleaned up for the day. Once in the bathroom, however, he suddenly groans out loud which causes Hermione to knock on the bathroom door.

"Wha— Hey! What do you think you're doing in there, Mister? At least keep your 'broomstick polishing' session down, would you?"

"It ain't what you think," says Harry. "I completely forgot to bring my clothes in here!"

"Oh, so that's why you're groaning. Okay, bye." Hermione teasingly walks away from the door.

"No, come back! My pyjamas are already in the basket and I'm not taking them out again," says Harry, his voice raised over the sound of the shower.

"Maybe I should let you come out in towels, or worse," says Hermione while leaning against the door. "Do my chores again? Only half this time."

"Okay, fine; way to take advantage of someone in need," says Harry.

"Calm yourself down, Harry; I'll go fetch your stuff right now."

"Jeans and black t-shirt please. Oh, and because you're so pedantic, I'll need my vest and boxers too. That specific enough for you, Granger?"

"Correct." Hermione heads downstairs to retrieve the requested items before returning to the bathroom. "I've got your stuff, Stressball."

"Just give me five minutes..." says Harry.

"Now, why should I wait on y—"

"Whoops." The door flies open as Harry grabs his clothes, winks at Hermione, then shuts the door.

"Oh my G—" she blushes and bangs her fists with each word. "You—deliberate—lying—perverted—argh!"

Soon enough, Harry opens the door and steps out fully dressed. "Oh, sorry. I meant give me five minutes before I'm completely dressed. You should've been prepared for that. I mean, don't you know everything, Miss Granger?"

Both students return to see an apologetic Ginny standing in the centre of Percy's room. "I'm so sorry, Harry; I left this room for just a few minutes and see what's happened..."

"Did Ron's pet just eat your snack?" asks Hermione, glancing at the half-eaten muffin laying near a cowering Scabbers.

But there's no smile from Harry as he kicks at the wooden dresser. "But that was  _my_ delicious muffin. ARGH, WHERE THE HELL IS MY WAND? HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER, GIVE ME MY WAND!"

Harry looks as if he's ready to pounce on Hermione, who's swiftly reached to withdraw his wand from the dresser. "Calm down, Harry, it's just one little muffin."

"I'm gonna kill this bloody rat, so give me back my wand."

"Not until you calm down and act sane for a change," says Hermione, while a startled Ginny stands against the wall.

"Give it back to me!" Harry lunges at Hermione, causing them to topple over onto the bed as Scabbers flees out the room.

"Scabbers, you poor thing! But that was a really bad thing to do," scolds Ginny.

"Oi! What's going on in here, huh?" asks Ron, standing in the doorway with Scabbers trembling in his hands.

Harry climbs off the bed—and Hermione too— before turning to glance at Ron. "That piece of shit ate my snack which Ginny's baked. You'd better keep it far away from me over the next few days,  _or else._ "

Ginny stands before Harry with a slight scowl. "Or else what? Don't threaten our family rat, Harry Potter."

"Yeah, you tell 'em, Gin—"

"Shut up, Ron, it's Scabbers' fault too! So, lock him up over the next few days before Harry takes revenge," scolds a furious Ginny.

Once everything's finally settled down, Harry looks at Hermione and plonks himself on the bed. "I was really looking forward to that muffin, you know."

"I know, and so does everyone else in this house, silly." Hermione rubs Harry's back while looking at Ginny.

"I'll go find the biggest muffin which mum's made for today, okay?"

"Much appreciated, thanks," says Harry, getting up for breakfast in the kitchen where Mrs. Weasley speaks.

"Why haven't you fed Scabbers properly this morning, Ronald?"

"I thought Ginny di—"

"He's  _your_  school pet now, remember?" Mrs. Weasley points towards the stairs. "Go clean up that rat's mess right this instant!"

"Yes, mum," replies Ron.

The day continues as Mr. Weasley eventually calls Harry over to the garage in the front yard.

"You ever seen one of these, Harry?" He gestures towards the blue Ford Anglia.

"Not one that can supposedly fly, sir."

"Supposedly? Oh I can assure you this car can fly, alright. Would you like to take it for a spin? There's an invisibility booster button in here," says Mr. Weasley. "I'm sure you've been taught how to drive, right? Did your Muggle guardians show you the wheel? How fast can you go?"

Harry barely has any time to answer before Mrs. Weasley comes marching from the house.

"Arthur, this is totally irresponsible behaviour towards a child. Weren't you the one that said Muggles learn to drive by 16 or 17?"

"Did I? Oh yes, now I remember. Ahem, well, maybe some other time when you're older, eh?" asks Mr. Weasley, to which Harry eagerly nods.

With little else left to do, Harry spends the rest of the day flying against Charlie. Once again, he picks up immensely useful lessons in the air which would surely better his own Seeker skills.

So fast does the day fly by that it's soon time for Charlie to depart. After saying his goodbyes, the latter's driven to King's Cross station where he'll board a train at platform seven-and-a-half. Meanwhile, Harry tucks himself in for the night as the final week of Christmas holidays approach.

The rest of his week is spent playing pick-up games of Quidditch in the Burrow's orchard. But without a Snitch or proper Bludgers, the group of six opt to play as Chasers. However, Harry deliberately plays so poorly that even Hermione intercepts a fair bit of his passing.

And she spares no effort in taunting him throughout their match. "Oh my goodness, you really are a one-trick pony, Mister Potter!"

"Come on, Harry! You can't seriously be struggling this much with Chaser. You're making me look  _terrible_ ," says Ginny, coordinating her passes fairly well with George.

"Sorry, I guess my late father got all the Chaser talent!" Harry fumbles the Quaffle yet again after a pass.

"Man, you'd better hope Slytherin never needs you as Chaser," says George.

"I hope they do!" adds Fred.

"Blimey, you suck," laughs Ron, as he intercepts another one of Harry's passes before tossing the Quaffle to Hermione. "Even she's trying to get the hang of it, you know."

After Quidditch, it's time for another session of studying for Hermione while Harry does her chores.

"Hey, I've noticed that you haven't sat with anything Divination-related yet."

"Waste of my time," sighs Hermione. "Honestly, I'm  _this_ close to dropping it altogether. Even Professor McGonagall seems to agree with my view of it being rubbish." She kicks off her shoes and lays across the couch. "Now this is a week that I can enjoy. Go on, my humble servant; use your Inner Eye to predict which of my chores needs to be finished, hahaha!"

The weekend brings both the new year and start of term for Harry and the rest. After a morning of being fussed over, they're taken to King's Cross station by

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Here, the twins head through the magical barrier first followed by Ron.

"There's my boy."

While facing the wall, Harry spins around to spot Pansy approaching beside her mother. The latter immediately locking eyes with the Weasleys.

"Not  _her_  again," mutters Mrs. Weasley, her eyes fixed upon Pansy's mother for anything suspicious. Meanwhile, Harry grins before being pulled into quite possibly the tightest hug since Christmas Day.

"Did you get my present?" asks Pansy, whose hair remains its usual bob, although slightly longer.

"Oh yes, definitely, and I loved it."

"Alright, at least you don't look any worse for wear from hanging out with  _such_ "—Pansy regards the Weasleys and Hermione with a scornful expression—"folks. Anyway, I'll see you on the train in our usual compartment."

"Sure," says Harry, watching Pansy walk over to stand on tiptoes while kissing her mother on the cheek.

Ten minutes later, Harry strolls towards the Hogwarts Express which is set to leave in about half an hour. Along the way, he spots Marcus Flint pulling a trunk towards the train.

"WHAT?!" yells Flint, once Harry's informed him of the Firebolt. "You're joking right? Is this some kind of new year's prank?"

"No joke, or at least that's what Professor Snape's written."

"A  _Firebolt_?"

"Yeah."

"A real Firebolt?"

"Seems likely."

"For real?"

"Hopefully."

Flint straightens up and appears determined to negotiate the broom's return. "Damn, now it's double the shock for Ravenclaw on match day! But, uh, do those Weasels know about the broom?"

"Unfortunately yes; that letter wasn't too subtle," admits Harry, to which Flint cusses a fair bit.

"Okay, fine. Our number one priority is making sure nobody knows you're coming out as Chaser until match day, when it's already too late. Speaking of which..."

Flint produces a note from his pocket which states that their match has been rescheduled to...

"The 15th of January? That's mental! We barely have two weeks to train in this case," says Harry, but Flint appears surprisingly happy at this change.

"Nah, look it at this way: it's less time than the usual third week in Feb. Think, Potter, that increases the chances of our Chaser ruse succeeding!"

Harry considers Flint's point of view but then remembers something vital. "I haven't started on my Dementor sessions yet; Professor Lupin said it'd only begin now onwards."

"Well then, whatever you're doing better be done quick."

"And don't forget about my broom. Dunno when I'll get it back," admits Harry.

"Why does everything always seem to go wrong with you?" asks Flint.

"I've been asking myself that same question for over two years now."

More foul language comes from Flint before he snaps his fingers, then smiles, "We could ask Professor Snape how long that broom-work will take. Then reschedule accordingly."

"As if they're gonna shift the entire schedule for one player's broom."

"And your Dementor problems, let's make the most of that." Flint boards the Hogwarts Express just as he spots Oliver Wood headed their way. For Harry, however, it'd surely be strange to converse with Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain.

"Harry Potter."

"Oliver Wood."

"Enjoyed your Christmas? Got any  _gifts_  or anything?" asks Wood.

"In case you're wondering, I suppose the answer is yes."

"Darn, I guess Gryffindor's gonna have to rack up as many points as possible. Don't expect even that broom to cosy you to the Cup. What an absolute unfair advantage I must say. Man, if we had even one of those; just think of the possibilities... Ahem, anyway, don't expect an easy ride," says Wood, before boarding the Express.

Following a lengthy, cold journey, the students exit at Hogsmeade station where the horseless carriages transport them up to the castle. While many students eagerly discuss their Christmas presents, Harry grins since he's got the entire school mapped out for his perusal.

But as much as Harry values his friends, the Marauder's Map remains in his possession without their knowledge. Unfortunately, the common room and dormitories appear far too crowded and packed for Harry to even dare attempt to use his new tool.

Monday brings about the start of classes and rumours of the Firebolt. Although none are certain of the truth, they nonetheless bombard Harry with questions as he enters the Great Hall for breakfast. Looking around, he spots countless eyes glancing in his direction as if many were expecting him to walk in with a Firebolt at his side. Most noticeable is the Ravenclaw Quidditch team sitting huddled together, possibly planning whatever contingency measures they can.

Slytherin House is no different, as Harry sits down to a barrage of excitement from his five girls. Minutes later sees over a dozen lower-years surrounding him at the table. Some beg to see the Firebolt while others repeatedly wish they could own one. As he looks down the table to his right, Harry spots Flint and the rest of the team roaring with laughter while toasting their goblets of juice.

"Potter!" calls voice from Harry's side, which turns out to be a startled Draco Malfoy. "Did you really go and buy  _that_  broom?"

Harry quickly explains the situation regarding the Firebolt to the mass of Slytherins gathered around him.

"There's no way an escaped convict could afford such a thing. And for what possible reason would they do it for you, Potter?" asks Draco, before glancing behind at Crabbe and Goyle to hear their opinions.

"Dunno."

"Beats me."

"Well, there goes our poverty act. Now I'll have to pretend to be fearful at losing my hopes of Seeker position to you," says Draco, reaching to grab a piece of tart, past Pansy, in the centre of the table.

"Don't just reach over a lady's plate while she's eating!" Pansy huffs and slaps away Draco's hand.

Shrugging his shoulders, Draco stuffs the tart in his mouth and gulps it down. "Oops," he says, while reaching to grab another two tarts before handing them to Crabbe and Goyle. The action solely meant to taunt Pansy, as opposed to being kind towards his cronies.

But she merely smiles and dips a spoon into her bowl of custard which splashes onto Draco's robes. "Oops."

"Potter, I don't know how you put up with this sort of behaviour... times five." Draco sighs at a giggling Pansy, Tracey, Millicent, Sally-Anne, and Daphne.

After a quick Cleaning Charm by Harry, Draco returns to his end of the table with Crabbe and Goyle.

"You're too kind sometimes," says Millicent. "Should've let him walk around until someone else cleaned up that mess."

The day carries on with Care of Magical Creatures being a surprisingly fun session in the freezing cold. Hagrid's lesson on collecting firewood for his salamander bonfire proves both enjoyable and warming. But amidst the laughs and shivering of both Houses, very few spot the occasional sob by their Professor. This includes Harry, whose attention is divided between his female buddies and keeping the bonfire alive.

Next up is Defence Against the Dark Arts which Harry's eagerly been anticipating. The lesson zips by before he approaches Lupin once most of the class has left. As promised, their 'anti-Dementor' classes are scheduled for Thursday in the History of Magic classroom. Later in the day, Divination brings about more sadness from Trelawney as she reminds Harry of his ever-shortening lifespan; a prediction that has Pansy snorting in a truly unladylike manner.

On Thursday evening, Harry exits the Dungeons and makes his way to the History of Magic classroom. Minutes later, Professor Lupin steps in, lights various lamps with his wand, then heaves a large packing case on the desk.

"Um, Professor, I don't see how packing our things and going gallivanting around will help me fight off Dementors," says Harry.

"Very funny, Harry, but this case contains a Boggart that I found in Filch's filing cabinet a few days ago. I reckon we ought to have it turn into a Dementor so you can practice that spell."

"Cool! I'm so ready for this, Professor; if only I knew what spell we're using."

"If magic was solely powered by a witty mouth, then I reckon you'd be king of the world. Now, jokes aside..." Lupin proceeds to explain as much as he can with regards to the Patronus Charm and Dementors in general.

With so many past events qualifying as 'happy' memories, Harry tries to single out a specific one. From being defended (by Pansy) in Harry's first Potions class, to flying his first broom, to meeting Holly Nates..."

"Um, anyone still home there, Harry? Remain focused once we get to the actual casting. Speaking of which, the incantation is:  _Expecto Patronum_."

" _Expecto Patronum,_ " mutters Harry.

"Good; I take it you've got yourself a happy memory there? A really good one?"

Harry nods then waves his wand while thinking about that first hug from Pansy. " _Expecto Patronum_!"

What appears to be a small blast of silvery gas erupts from the tip of his wand.

"Very good! Shall we try it out on a Dementor?" asks Lupin, to which Harry moves to the centre of the classroom as the packing case is opened.

" _Expecto Patro—_  What?"

Something leaps out and lands metres before Harry: a handsome boy, dressed in Slytherin robes, around Harry's height.

"What in blazes? Harry, what is this? Where's the Dementor? Who's this boy?" asks an utterly bemused Lupin, standing behind the Boggart.

"Uh, well, crap..." Harry gapes at the half-Riddle, half-Harry Boggart standing before him. "This is awkward indeed, but I sure as hell don't fear this rubbish.  _Riddikulus_!"

In an instant, the Boggart turns to resemble a prancing Harry dressed in Gryffindor robes.

"Ha! I remember this from earlier in the year!" says Harry, while Lupin appears part confused, amused, and concerned.

Now it happens: the Boggart Harry turns to look at Harry then seemingly melts into thin air. A black figure soon forms in the room; its face covered beneath a hood.

"There we go!" says Lupin, "Do it now, Harry, show that thing who's boss!"

Harry takes aim and thinks of that first tight hug: just him, Pansy, and the smell of citrus perfume.

_"Expecto Patronum!"_

A mere tuft of silvery smoke draws some of the Dementor's attention. But it's not enough, and Harry falls through thick white fog to the sound of screams and pleading...

His eyes open to reveal the Professor kneeling beside him. "Are you alright, Harry?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Lupin hands him a few blocks of chocolate. "Now tell me, what was that first Boggart all about?"

Unwilling to discuss his deepest uncertainties, Harry sighs. "It's very complicated, Professor. But Dumbledore once said it's unwise to go telling people about that."

"Keep your secrets then, kid. Anyway, that was better than I'd expect from your first attempt. It's quite astonishing that something even came out your wand against the Dementor," says Lupin.

"Let's do it again, I need to get this thing sorted before my match. The Willow ain't getting my Firebolt too!" Harry hops up and takes aim at the packing case.

"Are you sure about this, Harry?"

"Yes, sir!" Harry furiously attempts his spell as the Dementor once again swoops down upon him...

"Harry, I think we've had enough for one session."

Lupin taps him on the face before Harry jerks up and explains what he's just heard.

"James? You heard your father?"

"Yeah, and that was his final moment against Voldemort." Harry stares determinedly at the packing case. "One more round, let's go."

"You know when I said I knew your father? Well, your parents and I were friends at school," says Lupin. "Look, I truly think we've had enough for tonight."

"No, just one more!"

"Fine, ready?" asks Lupin, while holding the case lid once more. "Focus... and go!"

_"Expecto Patronum!"_

The Dementor swoops down again, extending a hand towards Harry as the sounds of screaming fills him once more.

Streaks of silver burst forth from his wand, swishing and slaloming before gathering in shadowy form between the Dementor and Harry. The latter's legs tremble but he remains standing as Lupin aims his wand.

_"Riddikulus!"_

Harry's Patronus vanishes, and he now slumps into a chair while Lupin forces the Boggart back into its case; a silvery orb briefly appearing while doing so.

"Excellent, Harry! That wasn't too bad at all; better than what I've expected."

Although he tries to negotiate one more round tonight, Harry concedes that his next session will be in a week's time. This leaves him with little choice but to exit the classroom and return to the Dungeons. Once freshened up and in bed, Harry looks around to see his roommates fast asleep already; a perfect opportunity to shut his curtains and view Gryffindor Tower on the Map.

Countless dots cram together in the circular space, given the sheer dozens of students having to be displayed at once. Soon enough, Harry grins upon seeing Hermione Granger in her dormitory. Other occupants of the third-year girls' room include Lavender Brown, Fay Dunbar, Eloise Midgen, and Parvati Patil.

Meanwhile, Harry decides to check up on Ron and spots him in the third-year boys' dormitory. Neville and Seamus are also present, in addition to Dean Thomas and Roger Malone.

Moving towards the common room area, Harry discerns the names of: Kenneth Towler, Alicia Spinnet, Peter Pettigrew, Colin Creevey, and Ginny Weasley. Nothing of vital importance for Harry, who only knows Ginny, Alicia, and having met the 'annoying' Creevey boy already.

"Mischief Managed," he whispers, before safely tucking away the Map and getting some shut eye for the night. Dementors be damned, Harry vows to get that Patronus Charm going as expected of himself.

 


	23. Return of the Chaser

Frustrations and anxiety only increase for Harry as the second week of term gets underway. Even worse is the uncertainty regarding his Firebolt's return while the Ravenclaw games nears.  

"Unless you wish to violently hang from your broom as in first year, I suggest you wait until our thorough inspection is complete," says Snape after Potions class.

"But that was Professor Quirrell's fault. I'm sure you can come up with another anti-Jinx incantation, sir," says Harry.

"There is still much inspection to be done as the Dark Arts has many methods of harm. Stop pestering me about a broom and carry on with your classes, Potter!"

"But can't we delay the match? Postpone it? I don't have a broom at the moment."

"Too late for that now. Why not use some of your  _father's_  wealth and buy a new one?" sneers Snape, and Harry sighs as he feels the animosity building up between them.

"Come on, sir, don't be like that. Let's not make this personal; are we cool?" Harry turns around and extends a hand, which Snape simply looks at then smacks aside.

"Take that cheek somewhere else, Potter."

Harry stifles a grin, "Sorry, sir, I understand, sir, yes, sir."

"Get—out!"

After getting ushered out by Snape, Harry makes his way up to the seventh-floor tower for another Divination class. Now it's Trelawney who tries to put on an air of seriousness while addressing the room full of third-year Slytherins.

"The fates foresee a few lessons with you and the House of Lions together... before your exams shall commence."

Neither Harry nor the rest of the Slytherins seem particularly impressed by something quite obviously set up by the Professor herself.

"All she's trying to say is that we're having a few lessons with Gryffindor before the end of term. Screw this subject! It's a bunch of absolute rubbish indeed; waste of my brain," says a yawning Tracey after class.

"Why is it always  _Gryffindor_  we end up sharing with?" asks Harry.

"Beats me; maybe that's just how things go. The 'faaates' want us to be with them more often," laughs Pansy.

As the week continues, Flint decides upon dropping Warrington for the upcoming match. This also affords Cassius the opportunity of focusing on his growing list of assignments and studies needed for the year. Both parties benefit as Harry borrows Warrington's Nimbus 2001 while continuing to practice under Madam Hooch's supervision; the threat of Sirius Black taken fairly seriously by the staff.

Thursday sees Harry gradually improving on his Patronus Charm; the second evening lesson ending with Harry producing an incorporeal cloud of silver. Then comes Friday, which serves as the final bit of practice for Team Slytherin. All goes well and everyone's absolutely ready for tomorrow's game. Flint, in particular, is absolutely delighted that Harry's even bothered to read and put his Christmas present into practice. Bletchley also notes that Harry will prove to be an 'interesting wildcard' in the match. After changing back into their casual wear, the team make their way back to the castle under darkened skies.

Saturday morning arrives in seemingly no time at all. By now, most of the school has heard that Harry's Firebolt remains confiscated. He soon enters the Great Hall and overhears the Ravenclaws chatting to his right, although Team Slytherin team remains smug about their match.

"He doesn't have his new broom! This'll be easier for you, Cho," says a Ravenclaw student.

"Give 'em hell before their match against Hufflepuff."

"I wonder if they'll drop him for Malfoy, or just let him borrow a 2001?"

"Is Harry Potter even going to play today?"

Theories and speculation run rampant across the Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor tables. Harry even strolls past the Seeker, Cho Chang, and wishes her luck for the match. He receives a smile from the girl he finds attractive and, in response, he drops a vague hint.

"I hope the rest of your team is ready."

Cho looks up at him. "I look forward to flying against you in the air, Harry Potter. Sorry about your Firebolt, though."

Harry grins in a manner that has Cho's teammates eyeing him suspiciously. "Oh, don't worry; I have a feeling that  _you_  folks are going to have a difficult time against us. So, Chang, been preparing and studying my moves?"

She nods. "Just call me Cho. And yes, we've certainly done our homework. As a matter of fact, I know your strengths lay with diving—"

"Cho, quit speaking to our opponent please," says another member of the team.

"Sorry, Harry, maybe we can speak again after the match? Once I beat you to the Snitch, of course."

At 10:30, Draco exits the Great Hall first, arousing little suspicion. Fifteen minutes later, the rest of the team, bar Warrington, make their way out the castle and towards their locker room at the stadium. After changing into robes of green, Harry, Draco, Bletchley, Derrick, Bole, and Montague sit listening to Flint's pre-match talk.

"Alright! I did some looking around earlier and none of the other Houses know Potter and Malfoy are playing simultaneously today. Wait, shhh, listen," says Flint, as the commentary of Lee Jordan can be heard from the locker room.

"—still no confirmation on the Slytherin line-up today. Perhaps they're still battling with the idea of playing without Potter? Or maybe he's begging one of his teammates for their broom at the last minute—"

Flint scoffs. "You hear this guy?"

"'Begging'? Oh, I'm gonna make the Keeper beg for mercy today," says an offended Harry, earning a thumbs-up from Flint.

"That's the spirit! Right, menfolk—" the elaborate adjective brings snorts of laughter around the room—"I'll keep this short and sweet. Malfoy, keep watch for our signals of when to actually try and catch the Snitch. Otherwise just scout, tail, or block Chang from getting it."

Draco nods, although visibly nervous at his first match for the team. "My parents are in the crowd today, so I can't afford to screw up..."

Flint laughs rather derisively. "Don't be distracted, Malfoy; Chang would give even Potter a challenge in the air. Yes, she's battled injuries in the past but now she's fit. And don't underestimate her just 'cos she's on a Comet Two-Sixty. Last thing we need is to be beaten by a rubbish broom."

Flint now turns to address his fellow Chasers: Montague and Harry.

"As for us, we're up against Roger Davies, Jeremy Stretton, and Randolph Burrow on Cleansweep Sevens. Their beaters, Duncan Inglebee and Jason Samuels, as well as Keeper Grant Page, seem to be flying Sevens too. Just Chang's got a Comet model, shame."

Harry looks to the far right of the bench and sees that Draco looks positively ill with stress. This makes him wonder whether he'd have felt the same, had Lily and James Potter been up in the stands at his first match.

"... everyone ready? Let's go and give them Eagles the fright of their lives!" says Flint, and Harry can't resist the urge to pass a witty comment.

"Never understood why the RAVENclaw House animal is an eagle."

"You and me both, Potter." Flint deliberately places Harry at the back as they step out to a wave of Slytherin cheers and chants.

Meanwhile, Lee Jordan appears to be commentating as usual. "And here comes the Slytherin team led by Captain Marcus Flint. Montague's behind him followed by Beaters Derrick and Bole. There's Bletchley the Keeper and... well, well, well, looks like Potter's been dropped after all! Draco Malfoy comes out as Seeker today. I repeat: they're using their reserve player today! Now then, where's Cassius Warrington?" asks Jordan, to which the Slytherin crowd jeers with laughter.

"UP HERE, LOSER!"

Now Harry steps forward and into the light of a clear, breezy day.

"I see... WHAT THE HELL!? THAT'S POTTER! HARRY POTTER'S ON THE PITCH! BUT MALFOY'S HERE TOO? WHAT'S GOING ON?"

Harry beams and joins the rest of his team standing in the centre of the pitch. Here, Marcus Flint and Roger Davies stare each other down while a shocked Cho gapes at Harry.

"Is he going to play Chaser today? Can he? I thought Harry Potter's just a Seeker?" asks Lee Jordan over the magical megaphone. "What is this trickery?"

The Gryffindors hurriedly begin reorganising their chants. And it soon becomes evident that either the twins, Ron, Hermione or Ginny have let word slip of his holiday games.

"IT'S OKAY; HE CAN'T PLAY!" they chant, referencing his supposed 'dreadful' skills as Chaser.

"Well, I dunno where  _those_  chants came from but it sounds like Slytherin's just made a big mistake today! Too late to back out now," says a gleeful Jordan.

At Madam Hooch's signal, Flint, Montague and Harry ascend upwards once the Quaffle's released. Then, Davies, Stretton, and Burrow bolt forward while the Beaters hover nearby with their sights set on the Bludgers and their opposition. Keepers Bletchley and Page take up positions at their respective goalposts.

Elsewhere, Cho and Draco fly upwards while Harry can practically feel the former looking at him. But there's no time to waste as Harry speeds forward to grab the Quaffle.

"Potter, pass!" yells Flint, now metres beside Harry as three Chasers converge to dispossess him. Their efforts are in vain, however, as Harry instinctively rolls his broom, narrowly avoiding the group of hands reaching out towards him.

"Potter takes first possession and executes... a Sloth Grip Roll? No way could Flint have taught him that! Anyway, Flint's got the Quaffle and looks like he's prepping a Hawkshead Attacking Formation. Yep, there goes Slytherin towards the Ravenclaw goalposts! Davies flies in to dispossess but Flint passes to Montague. Yes! Looks like the pass is cut off by Stretton who speeds towards the Slytherin goalposts. Ravenclaw now splitting up their Chasers to confuse Flint... it works!"

Harry spins and speeds off towards Stretton, his Nimbus 2001 affording a swift closing of the gap as they near the Slytherin goalposts.

"Potter's on your tail, Stretton! Don't let him get the Quaffle, —Whoa!— nice pass to Burrow. It's Burrow with the Quaffle, and he's approaching to shoot... DAMN!"

With Flint and Montague on his far right, Harry swerves in from beneath Burrow to grab the Quaffle. He now brings his broom to a halt with surprising precision before spinning around.

"Potter's in possession! He's speeding off down the right side of the pitch, keeping dangerously close to the ground... Damn! He dodges that Bludger and is still in possession. Here comes Flint to Potter's left and receives the pass while Montague moves to the centre. Slytherins' Beaters now ready their bats and... Whew! Davies luckily dodges that Dopplebeater Defence Bludger."

Harry streaks diagonally across the field as Flint hurls the Quaffle towards him...

"What a catch by Potter! He's going forward, past Stretton, then rolls over Davies and—WHAT AM I SEEING HERE? Potter passes to Montague as the Slytherin Chasers approach Page. The Quaffle's returned to Potter who goes in alone, as per the rules of the book..."

"No one can beat the son of James," mutters Harry.

"Potter's going forward, throws towards the left... NO, IT'S A FEINT! DON'T...ARGH! PAGE FALLS FOR IT AS POTTER SCORES THROUGH THE CENTRE POST! I REPEAT, HARRY POTTER HAS SCORED THE OPENING GOAL. TEN-ZERO TO SLYTHERIN!"

Through the roaring cheers from Slytherin, Harry feels it: the euphoria of his first ever Chaser's goal. Although it's merely 10 points, he spins around in mid-air while punching his fist upwards.

"YEEAAAAAH BOOOOOOOY!" Flint screams in applause before Page grabs the Quaffle to restart play. Meanwhile, Lee Jordan resumes his commentary.

"Page passes to Davies who seeks out Burrow. Oh damn, what a Bludger hit from Bole! Burrow drops the Quaffle."

Seeing Flint speeding to retrieve it, Harry yells for a reverse pass which Flint only partially succeeds in doing. Still, Harry salvages it by streaking forward and catching the Quaffle near the Gryffindor crowd. Through the boos and jeers, Harry tries to spot any of the Weasleys, particularly Ginny, to playfully taunt about his surprising skill.

"What is Potter doing?  ARROGANT SON OF A B—"

"DON'T YOU DARE, JORDAN!" yells McGonagall.

With mere seconds until the Ravenclaw Chasers converge, Harry points to the Gryffindors and signals for them to bow down towards him. Then he rolls in the air causing two Chasers to collide with each other upon failing to grab the Quaffle. Cheers and laughter erupt from the Slytherins as Harry swerves to take off while Flint and Montague now converge at his sides.

"Slytherin on the attack again —BAM!— Bludger hits Montague who takes a moment to recover. Davies and Burrow swoop down to dispossess Potter. Quaffle is passed to Flint who muscles Stretton aside to defend possession. Here comes another Bludger... deflected by Derrick and sent towards Davies, who evades."

Now flying at the forefront of the attack, Harry looks over his shoulder as Flint passes to Montague; the latter now passing to Harry as the Ravenclaw Chasers catch up.

"Potter's got the Quaffle from Montague and makes his way to Ravenclaw's goalposts. Potter rolls over Burrow and passes to Montague outside the scoring zone. Montague goes forward... Quaffle passed to Flint, Potter and Montague slowing down... OH, FLINT SCORES! TWENTY-ZERO TO SLYTHERIN!"

More cheers from the Slytherin end erupts before Page hurls the Quaffle towards Stretton. As the game resumes, Harry narrowly ducks both Bludgers whizzing by before forming up beside Montague. The bigger Chaser affording him some degree of shielding.

"Potter hides beside Montague, hahaha! Oh darn, Flint's taken the Quaffle from Ravenclaw and now turns in the air. Potter speeds from his hiding spot to catch the pass and swoop down low."

Indeed, Harry stays close to the ground before suddenly pulling on the handle of his broom. With its nose tilted up, the Nimbus 2001 swiftly climbs as Harry passes to Flint.

"Still no sign of the Snitch by either Seeker as Malfoy and Chang are still searching. No excitement happening the—HEY WHAT? Potter's leading the charge towards goal, passes to Montague, then evades another Bludger. Montague going for the shot now... HE SCORES! THIRTY-ZERO TO SLYTHERIN!"

Neither practice nor his Chaser book could have prepared Harry for today's performance. So natural does he find this position that Flint nearly falls off his broom in joy as Harry assists the next few goals.

"FLINT SCORES!"

Then, minutes later...

"MONTAGUE PUTS IT THROUGH!"

With Slytherin 50 points up, Harry quickly becomes Ravenclaw's priority target as Ingleblee and Samuels ready their Beater's bats.

"Looks like Potter's been marked V.I.P, and I don't blame those Beaters one bit! Whoa, here it comes, YES! Bludger to the stomach! Direct hit!"

Gasps and boos echo throughout Slytherin as Harry's knocked off his broom, although fortunately close to ground. Cheers roar through the rest of the stands while Flint yells at his Beaters to 'wake the hell up!'

"Shake it off, Potter, you can still play," says Madam Hooch after assessing the situation. Indeed, Harry stands up and takes off more alert than ever.

"Well, someone's come back with a vengeance as Potter is shielded by Bole. Potter snatches the Quaffle from Davies and moves to Flint's Hawkshead Attacking Formation. Come on, Grant Page, save something today! Flint enters the scoring zone and shoots... SAVED BY PAGE!"

Flint angrily punches the air before the Quaffle is retrieved by Page, who now passes to an ascending Burrow. Two Ravenclaw Chasers swiftly fly behind Montague and Flint as the latter group pursues Burrow. But Harry narrows his eyes while following Davies and Stretton.

"PORSKOFF PLOY!" cheers Lee Jordan. "Burrow pretends to ascend but passes the Quaffle over Montague and Flint to Stretton behind the grou— Oh come on, what is this... a joke?"

Harry immediately seizes possession, from Stretton, before speeding away from the Ravenclaw Chasers. Hunched low on the broom, Harry streaks at an impressive speed towards the goalposts where he swiftly turns left.

"Potter's facing the left hoop. Uh-uh, I think he's going for the centre one... PAGE MOVES TO SAVE THE SHOT—"

But Harry holds on tight as the Quaffle remains in his grip. Then, in mere seconds, he hurls it forward towards the unguarded right hoop.

"GOAL BY POTTER AGAIN! THAT'S SIXTY-ZERO FOR SLYTHERIN SO FAR! COME ON, YOU EAGLES, SHOW THEM!"

But Harry doesn't wish to let up; he performs a Sloth Grip Roll to confuse Inglebee who's lining up a Bludger shot while the Chasers push on.

"Page throws to Burrow...nice swerve around Flint... Quaffle goes to Stretton in the centre of play. Sorry, Montague, better luck intercepting next time."

Harry sees them coming: all three Chasers now in their Hawkshead Attacking Formation. But charging three-on-one is far too risky and so he rolls aside.

"Potter got cold feet and let the Ravenclaws pass! Oh, looks like even the speed of those Nimbus 2001's can't close the gap. Davies passes to Burrow who goes forward... BLETCHLEY SAVES but the Quaffle rebounds to the centre..."

It lays dangerously close for another Ravenclaw chance at goal, therefore, Harry brings his chest practically against his broom. In mere seconds, he streaks forward at just over 100mph and manages to swipe up the Quaffle.

"Potter doubles back and picks up the loose Quaffle. Crazy kid, look at him turn 180 on the spot, that's nuts! Flint gets the pass and swoops down. Bole comes to sniff out any Bludgers while Montague takes the left flank. Potter stays in the centre.... receives the pass from below."

"Derrick, Bole, shield him!" yells Flint, as two Bludgers approach Harry from both sides. In a perfectly legal move, Slytherin's Beaters enter the scoring area with Harry as he takes the shot.

"Derrick and Bole swat away those Bludgers as Potter shoots... QUAFFLE SAVED! BUT IT'S ON THE REBOUND..."

Here's where Harry exploits his superior broom. Even though speed and acceleration are often mitigated by the opponent's skill, he streaks forward to kick the loose Quaffle before Page can grab it.

"POTTER SCORES AGAIN! SEVENTY-ZERO TO SLYTHERIN FROM AN OUTRAGEOUS EXPLOIT OF THE NIMBUS 2001. WHOA, CHANG'S SEEN THE SNITCH! COME ON, GIRL, PUT THAT COMET TWO-SIXTY TO THE LIMIT AND BEAT DRACO MALFOY!"


	24. To Save a Malfoy's Pride

Somehow, Ravenclaw have finally started figuring out Harry's preferred tactics; the initial shock of his blitzkrieg-style attacks now causing Davies to finally mount effective strategies.

"The brains of Ravenclaw have come alive, and not a moment too soon. That's the second good attack over the last 15 minutes. DAVIES SHOOTS... AND SCORES! SEVENTY-TWENTY; SLYTHERIN STILL IN THE LEAD!" yells Lee Jordan over the megaphone.

Cheers of encouragement roar from the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff stands while Ravenclaw chant their team members' names. Slytherin, however, decide upon mocking their opposition.

"POOR, POOR RAVENCLAW,

LOOK AT THAT AWFUL SCORE.

STOP TRYING FOR VICTORY,

AND JUST STAY IN THE LIBRARY."

Harry laughs as he speeds down the left flank of the pitch, with Quaffle in hand.

"And there we go, Slytherin showing their usual sense of arrogance and disrespect. Seriously, Professor Snape, you gotta do something about that bunch around you! Potter's going on the attack, he shoots... HE SCORES! DAMNIT, EIGHTY-TWENTY!"

As the Slytherin end erupts in cheers once more, Harry spots the battle for the Snitch going in Cho's favour. And Jordan's commentary certainly doesn't seem to be helping either.

"Celebrate all you want, but Chang's in the lead! Look at her magnificent skill in outflying Malfoy. I guess money can't buy everything—"

Even Professor McGonagall doesn't interrupt this biased bit of commentary.

"—Malfoy goes forward and tries to use that broom's speed to his advantage; sorry, but it takes more than that to win. Chang's still in the lead as they swerve up behind the rising Snitch—"

Meanwhile, Harry takes advantage of a momentary lapse in concentration from two of Ravenclaw's Chasers. Their fumbled pass now intercepted by him before Harry turns on the spot and passes to Flint.

"—Chang's on the dive now, Malfoy trying to keep up. Elsewhere, Flint goes for goal, shoots... SAVED by Page! Nice roll to stop that shot! Page passes to Davies as Ravenclaw's Captain now organizes a line formation."

"Potter, take that side!" yells Flint, signalling Harry to position himself on the far left of the field. "Montague, stay with me!"

"What's this? Montague and Flint are charging after the line of Ravenclaw Chasers while Potter sticks to the far left. —WHAM!— Bole shields Flint from a Bludger as the Quaffle is contested. Flint fails to dispossess, and it's passed to Stretton. Now Montague fails to grab it from him."

Harry spots Montague signalling with his hand and swiftly speeds off.

"Stretton keeps possession as the Ravenclaws break formation and... whoa watch out! Nimble Potter is speeding towards the lone Stretton. Looks like Flint can actually use his brain for once—"

The commentary is cut short by McGonagall's voice in the background.

"Give me that megaphone—"

"Sorry, I take it back! Oh, look! Potter's signalled Derrick and —SLAM!— that Bludger's got Stretton dropping the Quaffle. Seized by Potter who spins around to fly near the right boundary. Davies and Burrow are hot on his tail, but that dastardly Nimbus 2001 advantage is being exploited by Potter yet again."

Indeed, with his chest inches from the broomstick (and Quaffle firmly held in his left hand) Harry speeds ahead along the right side of the pitch.

"Davies stays in a centre line while trying to catch Potter on the turn. Burrow and Stretton move to follow the pair of Flint and Montague coming in to assist."

Davies plays the clever game as he catches Harry while the latter turns left to approach the goalposts.

"Potter's dispossessed, well done Davies! Now it's Ravenclaw on the attack as—Hang on... HANG ON!"

The rise in Jordan's tone immediately alerts Harry who looks around for the Golden Snitch. And what he sees causes him to make the riskiest decision of this game.

"CHANG'S FINGERTIPS ARE SO CLOSE! MALFOY DOESN'T STAND A CHANCE AS THE SEEKERS ASCEND UPWARDS NEAR THE GRYFFINDOR STAND. CHEER HER ON, YES! GO FOR IT! GO FOR IT!"

Cho Chang has taken a hectic lead over Draco, who's absolutely on his nerves now.

"Flint!" yells Harry, calling over the Slytherin Captain hovering nearby. "I've got an idea, but it's a one-time thing only. If it goes wrong: we forfeit this match. But if it goes right: Malfoy will be saved and you'd better pep talk those nerves out of him."

"Alright, lemme hear it then," says Flint.

"What's going on over there? Potter and Flint are whispering while Derrick keeps watch for Bludgers. Ravenclaw's Chasers are having a breeze with only Montague after them, and Bole following behind. Bletchley looks confused, and who can blame him? OH, DAVIES' SHOT IS SAVED BY BLETCHLEY! Slytherin's Keeper is not doing too badly, it has to be said."

Nodding after hearing Harry's idea, Flint pats the former on the back. "Don't screw this up, you hear? Won't trust anyone else with such a risky move. Now, go save that daddy's boy and I'll call a time-out when your move is done."

Harry nods and speeds towards the Gryffindor end of the stadium.

"What? Potter's broken away from Flint and Montague... is he after the Snitch? HEY, YOU'RE NOT SEEKER TODAY, PAL! WELL, FINE, GO AHEAD AND CATCH IT THEN. BY ALL MEANS, PLEASE DO!" says Jordan, coughing something sounding like  _'Snitchnip'_  under his breath. "Anyway, Chang takes a dive while Malfoy lags behind. Catch it soon, girl, because you gotta stop those Slytherin points from racking up—HEY!"

Harry swerves beside a startled Cho who glances at him over her shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

"Sorry, but I'm being a foul snake who's saving a teammate." He then turns left at the bottom of the dive, trailing metres from the Snitch ahead.

"HARRY POTTER'S OFFICIALLY LOST HIS MIND OUT HERE TODAY! LOOK HERE, FOLKS, WE'VE GOT A CHASER AFTER THE SNITCH... what an idiot."

Once again, McGonagall fails to reprimand the insults given that she's just as surprised as the rest of the stadium.

"POTTER? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? NO!" yells Malfoy from far behind.

Harry reaches forward and scoops up the Snitch; the feisty ball of gold now trapped within his sleeve at the end of a sharp turn.

Jeers and laughter fill the entirety of the stadium while the Slytherins gasp in shock. Meanwhile, Lee Jordan goes absolutely ballistic behind the megaphone.

"SNITCHNIP! SUPER FOUL INDEED! SLYTHERIN FORFEITS THE MATCH BECAUSE A NON-SEEKER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! THANK YOU, HARRY POTTER, FOR MAKING THE CUP EASIER FOR GRYFFINDOR! What a nutter."

Madam Hooch hurriedly approaches Harry once the entire match has ceased. "Has your brain surely fallen to its death or something? I'm afraid this will have to be ruled a Snitchnip."

Harry sighs and hopes that he'll get lucky with his next move:

In mere seconds, he vigorously shakes his arm which causes the trapped Snitch to come flying out. "Technically, I never touched the Snitch at all ma'am. That was a Plumpton Pass, because it went right up my sleeve."

Cho flies right up to him, her expression teary-eyed and livid. "You deliberately fouled everything when I was so close to ending this game! Why? I can't believe you, Harry Potter."

"She has a point, Potter," says Madam Hooch.

Meanwhile, a flabbergasted Draco now hovers beside Harry. "Tell me this is one sick joke."

"It never touched my skin whether flying in or out my sleeve, so it was a perfectly legal move. Although I wouldn't recommend it to anyone else; horrendously difficult for sure."

Unable to disprove Harry's legitimate explanation, Madam Hooch flies off to address Lee Jordan at the commentary box.

"I'm sorry, Cho, but that was necessary," says Harry, to which she prepares to speed away from him.

"You disgust me, Harry Potter. I hope we _never_ have to speak again."

"As for you"—Harry turns towards the wide-eyed Draco beside him—"I can't do that risky crap again, got it? So calm the hell down! I know your folks are watching, but just fly like you do in practice! At least you have parents to come and watch you play."

Draco sighs and nods. "When you put it like that, fine."

Elsewhere, Lee Jordan practically screams over the megaphone. "THAT CHEATING, CONNIVING... COWARD! POTTER, I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'D DO SUCH A THING."

"Okay, calm down now," says McGonagall in the background, before Jordan sighs.

"Folks, I've received word from Madam Hooch that no foul was committed. Potter performed the Plumpton Pass, and he somehow failed to end up touching the Snitch when taking it out his sleeve. Game resumes at Eighty-Twenty in favour of Slytherin. Oh, look, Marcus Flint calls for a time-out. How convenient."

Flint gathers the team for a quick talk in the centre of the pitch.

"Hahahaha! How'd you pull off such an impossible stunt, Potter? I don't think anyone's been able to do that before without Snitchnipping."

"With some luck, I guess. That thing was so close to touching my arm," admits Harry.

"Malfoy! Pull your head out your arse and play like you did against Potter in practice!" Flint continues to pep-talk Draco for the next few minutes.

"Yeah, you're a decent Seeker when you're focused," says Montague.

"So keep it cool out there and remember: Quidditch Cup is all about the point tally. Don't stress too much about that; just chase down the Snitch like Potter does," says Bletchley.

"We can't keep these Bludgers off forever out here!" yells Derrick, as he and Bole circle around the group.

"Let's go rack up some more goals!" Flint signals to resume their match. And, soon, a tremendous uproar comes from the Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor stands chanting in unison.

"CHEATER! CHEATER! CHEATER!"

Slytherin remains surprisingly silent, as if not believing what they've just witnessed.

"Here they go once more: Cho and Malfoy resume their search for the Golden Snitch, even though this game should've been over. Now Flint takes possession from Davies and passes to Montague. Bole smashes that Bludger, sending it back to Inglebee. Montague passes beneath Burrow to reach Harry Cheater Potter."

Ignoring the insults, Harry speeds forward, rolls to the right to avoid Stretton from grabbing the Quaffle, then swiftly ascends towards goal.

"Potter passes to Flint heading for goal... Flint shoots... SAVED by Page. Flint pulls back and, big surprise, Potter speeds forward to snatch the loose Quaffle. Throws left, no, right, and scores. Yaaay, Ninety-Twenty to Slytherin in a game that should've ended with them on only eighty."

Five Minutes later...

"Potter scores again, yaaay. One hundred to Slytherin, and still twenty for Ravenclaw."

Four minutes after that...

"Potter once again entering the scoring area. No, he pulls back and drops the Quaffle to Montague who scores. Yaaaay, 110-20 to Slytherin."

Harry wonders which House seems to be booing him the loudest among Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Meanwhile, Derrick takes to shielding Harry from every Bludger sent by Samuels.

"Malfoy has seen the Snitch, dodges a Bludger, and takes off in pursuit... even though this game should've ended on eighty," says Jordan.

Slytherin roars in approval and urges Draco to beat Chang to the Golden Snitch. By chance, the Slytherin Chasers pass by the visitors stands where Harry tries to spot Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy in the crowd.

"Potter, wake up!" yells Flint, before the Quaffle is yanked from Harry's grasp by Davies. The latter now turning around and heading, with his Chasers, towards Bletchley.

Harry finally spots them as the Malfoys keenly observe their son climbing after the Snitch.

"... STRETTON SCORES! TAKE THAT, YOU CHEATING SNAKES! 110-30, COULD WE SEE A COMEBACK HERE? PILE ON THE PRESSURE AND KEEP SLYTHERIN AT BAY," yells Jordan while McGonagall reminds him to 'try' and be impartial.

But after a few near Bludger misses, daredevil dives towards the ground, and a dozen passes in the centre of the pitch:

"Potter backs off to allow Montague through... Yaaay, another goal scored. Montague makes it 120-30."

Ravenclaw seems to be getting back into form with their next few moves, and Burrow soon scores after outmanoeuvring Harry.

"120-40! But wait... what? NOOOOO! MALFOY HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH; DRACO MALFOY ENDS IT ON 270-40 FOR SLYTHERIN HOUSE!"

The entire team swarms to congratulate an elated Draco, and the Slytherin stands boom with boisterous applause.

"Party in the common room tonight!" declares Flint, leading the team past their deafening stands. By the time they finally reach the ground, Harry and Draco are swooped up by countless Housemates.

"THAT'S MY POTTER!" screams a delighted Pansy in the crowd that have stormed the field.

Eventually, Harry sprints down the Slytherin tunnel as the crowd engulfs the rest of their team. Then, after showering and changing back into casual wear, Harry stores Warrington's broom near the latter's locker. But a few steps towards the door now sees him face-to-face with none other than Professor Snape. The latter standing with folded arms and a stoic expression.

"Sir?" asks a confused, and slightly nervous, Harry.

"Well done."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"I said 'well done', so don't make me repeat myself, Potter."

"About that incident, I know it was a cowardly thing to do..."

"Your father would never have taken such a risk in the game. He was always far too focused on his own talent on the field, regardless of others. A swine off the field and equally on it..."

Harry's heart races at the derogatory remarks, although he forces himself to listen without complaint.

"I have said enough, now get going before I retract my praise."

If being the alleged 'Heir of Slytherin' wasn't bad enough in his previous school year, Harry now finds himself in a similar position. Many ardent supporters of Ravenclaw make no effort to restrain their views as Harry walks down the corridors:

"Cheater."

"Should've been a Snitchnip."

" _Stay in the library?_  You disrespectful snakes."

"I warned Cho about Potter, but did she listen?"

Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs rally to side with those in bronze and blue:

"Where's the Dementors when you need 'em?"

"I'll bet Potter is the same as Sirius Black, just so evil!"

"Yeah, hope Black gets him some day."

"Blimey, and that git actually had the nerve to fool us at home? I swear he played dreadfully at the Burrow."

At some point during Saturday afternoon, Harry stumbles across the fifth-year, Cedric Diggory, on the fourth floor. The taller student seems to be sizing Harry up as Hufflepuff would be Slytherin's final match of the season.

"So, you playing Seeker or Chaser against us, Harry Potter?"

"I'm talented enough at both, why not keep it a surprise?"

"I hope you don't try those cheating tactics in our match. If we're going to be competing against each other, I'd prefer it nice and fair."

Harry scoffs. "Don't care about that, because I'm here to win. Both the House and Quidditch Cup are coming to Slytherin yet again."

"You folks have tallied 490 points already. Why not ease up a bit and give some sportsmanship in May?" asks Cedric. "I'm sure the crowd would love a close contest. Besides, we scored 110 against Ravenclaw when they won, remember?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"Let's say we beat Gryffindor in March: that's a minimum of Hufflepuff having 260, besides whatever we score in the hoops, before May. I'd guess we could score maybe 60 past those three talented Chasers, so it could be 320 most likely against your 490 score," says Cedric.

Harry scoffs yet again. "You'd need 180 to win the Cup. Whether Seeker or Chaser, there is no way I'm letting that happen, Diggory. Besides, you're getting ahead of yourself, fifth-year."

"Enlighten me."

"What makes you think you can beat Ginny Weasley to the Snitch?" asks Harry, sizing up Cedric and realizing the noticeable height advantage.

"Look at me, then picture her. No offense intended towards the talented little girl but that's just it. She's far smaller than me"—Cedric extends his arm, as if to emphasize his point—"my reach is obviously advantageous, and she can't exactly jostle me aside, can she? See where I'm going?"

Harry nods. "Yeah, I get your point. But Johnson, Spinnet, and Bell will rip your Chasers to shreds out there."

"Really? They're a fine team indeed but so are we. Have you not seen us take the fight right up to Ravenclaw like you Slytherins did today? 110, Remember?"

"Cho still beat you to the Snitch, and so will Ginny."

"I'll admit that I got a bit... distracted against Cho. But that'll definitely  _not_  happen against little Ginny," declares an adamant Cedric.

"Hmph, well, good luck then. Just know, Diggory, that I'll never ever allow Hufflepuff to steal the glory of Slytherin. Ever."

Cedric smiles. "Not even for a bit of sportsmanship in the end? Just imagine you and I battling for the Quidditch Cup in May if we Badgers beat Gryffindor before."

Harry almost snarls in distaste. "Don't try that sportsmanship rubbish with me, because it won't work. Slytherin for the Cup and Slytherin for the win, Cedric Diggory. There's no way I'm showing you or your House any mercy. Especially not after all these insulting chants I'm getting. 'Cheater', really?"

"Yeah, well, I could try and convince them to tone it down if it's bothering you," replies Cedric.

"Did I say it's bothering me? I'm used to animosity in this school. But Hogwarts belongs to Slytherin: its greatest House."

"I'm just trying to be nice, but the facts are that I'm older and taller than you, Harry."

"Don't call me 'Harry', that's for friends. And you're no friend, Huffleduffer."

"You really aren't as nice as some people might think, Potter."

Both students turn to walk off in separate directions, feeling equally insulted by today's interaction. Muttering under his breath, Harry nearly swears. "Effing Hufflepuff."

 


	25. A Smack and a Gift

With the rest of the team finalizing tonight's celebrations, Harry hurriedly heads to the common room. Any compliments or adulation are told to be 'kept for tonight' as he races to his empty dormitory.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

He scans over various sections of the school, zooming in and out until settling upon the Gryffindor common room.

"Come on, where are you? Hmm...  _Fay Dunbar, Eloise Midgen, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Percy Weasley, Peter Pettigrew..._ " He sighs, unable to find Ginny's name in the common room amidst its many students. Racking his brains, Harry tries to guess where she'd be around this time—otherwise he'd have to send a school owl with an anonymous note. He therefore zooms out and views a larger section of school. "Aha! Owlery, eh? Well, it's ninja time."

Since Harry needs to keep track of Ginny's movements on the Map, he decides upon using his Invisibility Cloak to sneak out the Slytherin common room.

"Aaa!" gasps Astoria Greengrass on the couch.

"What?" asks Daphne, seated beside and tutoring her younger sister.

"The door just opened by itself, I swear."

"Hmm." Daphne's eyes narrow before she shakes her head. "What's he up to now? Um, it was nothing really."

"But how did it just open like that?" asks Astoria, staring wide-eyed at the now shut door.

"Relax, and let's forget about that. Hogwarts can be weird, huh? Anyway, you were going to show me your Mending Charm..."

With Marauder's Map in hand, Harry tracks Ginny throughout the Owlery at the top of Hogwarts' West Tower. He soon uses the fourth-floor corridor but spots Ginny coincidentally headed his way.

"Mischief Managed."

He tucks the parchment away, pulls off his cloak, and stands against a nearby wall in the deserted corridor. A guilty smile crosses Harry's face upon seeing Ginny stomping towards him.

"You..."

Harry laughs. "Yes, me."

She walks right up to him and grabs the front of his jacket. "Tricky, lying, deceiving, cheating Slytherin!"

Before Ginny can proceed with the insults, Harry suddenly wraps the Cloak snugly around her.

"Is this an Invisibil—"

"Footsteps, shoosh! Might as well see how it feels to be invisible."

Ginny obeys, and she's absolutely fascinated by Harry's Cloak as Ron approaches.

"Potter! What are you doing here, you lousy cheater?"

"What are  _you_  doing here, Ronald?"

"Was gonna owl mum and ask her not to invite a cheater like you to our house ever again. Seriously, why'd you do that?"

Harry knows that Ginny's listening nearby, since she'd never have the heart to steal his Cloak.

"Because as much as Malfoy can be a git, that was his first match today."

"So? Chang had him right there until you intervened, and don't even get me started on those Chaser skills you hid from us. Foul play indeed."

"You don't know him like I do; Malfoy was under immense pressure from his father. It's bad enough that Hermione keeps beating him at every academic thing—"

"Like I care," says Ron.

"—so I took a chance today. Yeah, that Plumpton Pass was a really dirty cheating thing to do, but it was legal the way I did it."

Ron laughs dryly. "Don't try and justify what should have been Slytherin ending on eighty today."

"Do you know what it's like to have your parents watch your first Quidditch match?" asks Harry.

"Well, I haven't played yet, and dad's always at work while mum's too busy at home. So, no, can't say that I do. Why do you care?"

"I'll never get that opportunity. So the least I could've done is ensure that Malfoy can meet up with happy, perhaps proud, parents today. And if it meant playing dirty, then so be it."

"Fine, have it your way, Potter. I won't send that letter."

Harry rolls his eyes. "I didn't say you shouldn't send it, just don't blame me if you get a Howler in return."

"Alright, blimey, I get it." Ron turns around and decides to head back to the Grand Staircase.

"You can come out now, uh, wherever you are. Where are you anyway? Ginny? Oh for Heaven's sake, the Cloak's a lot less fun when it's being used  _against_  me..."

He searches throughout this section of the fourth-floor corridor until finally feeling it at waist height behind him. After pulling it off, Harry looks down at a grinning Ginny sitting against a wall.

"Haha, you found me."

"Of course, I came here just for you. How about I make this short and sweet: please beat Cedric Diggory in March."

Ginny appears quite taken aback. "Well, of course I'm going to beat him even though he's so much taller than me..."

"Let's make a deal: how about we fly against each other each week? I could use some Seeker practice after all," says Harry.

"But when? People are going to get suspicious."

"Just pick a late afternoon and head to the pitch around 4; I'll know you're there."

"How?"

"I have my ways, little Miss Weasley."

"Deal! But will you use the Firebolt? That'll be so awesome!"

Harry sighs. "I'm still waiting for it to be returned, so don't get your hopes up."

And with that, Harry heads to the Great Hall for dinner before being the star of a deafening party in the common room. Here, students of all years flood into the room where things are, fortunately, child-friendly.

"NO KISSING, NO BANGING, NO DRINKING, KEEP IT COOL... OR ELSE!" warns the Prefects (including Yasmin) as they patrol the crowded room.

"SLYTHERIN FOR THE CUP! SLYTHERIN FOR THE CUP! SLYTHERIN FOR THE CUP!" chants Flint, who's managed to organise food from the kitchens below.

Celebrations continue right up until eleven o'clock as Snape finally enters the common room. With a wave of his wand, he shuts off the wireless and ushers everyone to get freshened up for the night.

Between Harry's weekly anti-dementor classes, ever increasing workload, Quidditch practice, and flying with Ginny, he truly feels the mounting pressure. Homework is left for two nights of the week, and Harry wonders how he would've coped without his five girls. Even worse is the lack of contact with Hermione, who he once again only sees in Potions and Hagrid's class. So busy is Harry that he often bolts out his lessons as soon as the bell sounds. And not once does he wonder why Hermione's often speaking to Hagrid after each class.

February soon arrives and Gryffindor absolutely hammers Ravenclaw in Quidditch. By the time Ginny decides to catch the Snitch, the match ends 220-90 to Gryffindor. But all celebrations are cut short by news of Sirius Black having entered their common room, seemingly attacking Ron's bed. This only serves to reinforce people's opinions of Black being a simple madman without a real cause, as Harry Potter's clearly not in Gryffindor.

With one game left, Slytherin totals 490 while Gryffindor sits on 340. Ravenclaw are essentially out of the Cup, and Hufflepuff sits on 110 with two games in hand; their next match against Gryffindor on the first Saturday of March. Whether from wanting to get back at Cedric or wishing to see little Ginny in smiles, Harry tries his best to accommodate her during each week. But even she notes the unnecessary pressure piling on him.

"It's okay, really. Thanks a million for all this, but you really should be taking care of yourself first. Leave the rest to me."

"But Diggory's—"

"Whatever happens, I'm prepared for it. Win or lose, we Lions are gonna rack up the scoreboard!" declares Ginny.

Harry can only hope that Gryffindor does indeed win, as he would much rather contest the Cup with them than Hufflepuff. This is most likely due to Harry's remaining resentment over Justin Finch-Fletchley's reaction to the former's Parseltongue last year (at Lockhart's Duelling Club).

Saturday—the 12th of February—arrives, and there's still no word of the Firebolt for Harry; he's all but given up on ever seeing his supposed Christmas gift. And, again, his day gets even worse once Harry returns to the castle from a rather dull Hogsmeade trip.

"I'm so sorry that it's come to this, truly! There just wasn't anything I could find for his defence," says a tearful Hermione to an equally distraught Hagrid.

"It's not yer fault; I shoulda seen this comin'." He blows his nose, in a handkerchief, before being further consoled by Hermione.

"But there has to still be a way—" Her sentence is cut short as Hagrid asks to be excused and crosses the wooden bridge in tears.

"Hermione," greets Harry, halting in his tracks at the expression on her face.

"You!"

_SMACK!_

"THAT'S FOR WASTING TIME ON ALL THAT QUIDDITCH STUFF INSTEAD OF WORRYING ABOUT BUCKBEAK!"

Harry sits up and rubs his stinging red cheek in shock. Now, he's unable to even think up a witty remark to this unbelievable situation. "What the h—"

"I trusted you, Harry James Potter, and so does Hagrid! But look how that ended up." Hermione yanks Harry to his feet and shoves him against a wall.

"What are you talking about? And why are you even so miserable, so much, this year anyway?"

"Don't act like you don't know that Buckbeak's been sentenced to death. Hagrid got the letter today, even after all the research I've tried to do. Over a month for absolutely nothing!"

Harry's expression turns to shock as he'd genuinely forgotten about the Hippogriff. "I'm sorry; I forgot all about that."

Hermione's expression turns as livid as Harry's ever seen. "You  _forgot_  about an innocent creature's life?"

Still rubbing his cheek, Harry sees her balling her fist as he speaks. "Between Professor Lupin's lessons, Quidditch, homework, and inquiring about my Firebolt...I just didn't think to visit Hagrid or ask Malfoy what's going on."

"Oh, but you had time to plan all that Chaser nonsense out, huh? I even kept your little deception going regardless of my workload." She shakes her in disgust while looking Harry in the eye.

"I'm sorry."

"Tell that to Buckbeak, if you even care. It's always about you, isn't it? Your plights, your troubles, but nooo, who cares about the Hippogriff?"

Harry simply walks away with nothing to say in response. The confrontation by Hermione, of all people, overwhelms him a fair bit this afternoon. Then, by evening, he somehow masks his emotions during dinner and heads off to bed earlier than usual.

If there's one class that's truly awkward for him since Hermione's confrontation, it's Care of Magical Creatures. The guilt of having completely forgotten about Buckbeak only makes facing Hagrid even more difficult. For it's clear that Buckbeak's case meant little to Harry, who now feels absolutely terrible. And while Hermione can only glare at Harry throughout class, Ron openly attacks when Hagrid's preoccupied.

"Thanks a lot, Malfoy. One little scratch and you go running home like a coward."

Draco happily replies, "Look on the bright side: at least we'll have chicken for days in the Great Hall."

Jeers and laughter echo throughout the Slytherins while Harry remains sitting with head in hands.

"What's wrong?" whispers Pansy, seated beside Harry as usual.

"I should've tried to convince Malfoy to stop all this... now it's far too late. His father probably scared the whole committee into this execution."

"It is quite a shame for such a creature to be killed for just one scratch, I'll admit." Pansy sighs and looks across Hagrid's garden at Hermione. "Granger's been shooting daggers at you all day now."

"I'm gonna have to get used to it; she's been trying to help Hagrid out of this mess ever since January, and yet I completely forgot about this whole thing."

Meanwhile, the verbal row continues between the groups led by Draco and Ron respectively.

"Cluck, cluck, cluck!" mocks Nott, which only has Seamus insult his father.

"Where's your dad? Hiding from the Ministry? Waiting for You-Know-Who to come back and grovel before?"

"Don't insult my father, you stupid Half-Blood," sneers Nott in return. "At least my father ain't a Muggle, hahahaha!"

Hagrid returns just in time to see the row settling down, although his lessons grow drearier by the week as Buckbeak's execution nears.

For Harry, the next few weeks sees him essentially cut off from Hermione, and unable to establish any form of friendly conversation with his first-ever friend. Even worse, in his opinion, are the sudden start of joint Divination classes with none other than Gryffindor.

"This is a bloody joke! Life itself is playing tricks on me, I'm telling you," sighs Harry, sitting on a common room couch near his handful of friends at the start of March.

"Look, just give it a try and see if you can convince Malfoy to stop this nonsense. If his father could so easily bully the committee into preparing this execution, then I'm sure he can stop it," says Sally-Anne.

"How? What possible way can there be for me to convince all this to stop? That thing is going to be killed in three months, and now I've lost ties with Hermione Granger. Hate her all you want but she's still my first friend and, well, more... God, this is all just rubbish."

"Three months still leaves plenty of time to think of something, so use whatever you can think of," says Sally-Anne. "If it wasn't for you, Malfoy would've embarrassed himself in his first-ever Quidditch match, remember?"

"I took their House Elf—"

"Who's working, for you, at their place again."

Harry decides to get up and end this conversation prematurely. Whether it'll work or not, he decides upon confronting Draco in the dormitory room.

"Malfoy," he says, entering the empty room save for Draco and him.

"Something wrong?"

Harry sighs and tries to bring his point across as politely as possible. More than a few minutes are needed for him to formulate an explanation without involving Hermione. Draco's response, however, proves as merciless as Harry had expected. Although by no means insulting towards Harry, there seems to be no room for negotiation at this stage. "Father's never going to back out now and, sorry, neither can I."

On Wednesday afternoon, Harry leaps up from laying on Millicent's lap near the Black Lake. "Screw everything, who cares? I'm going to do something insane because I just don't care."

Tracey turns around to glance at Harry. "Calm down and lay here again; you're not thinking straight."

"What are you gonna do anyway, Harry? Just so we know what to expect? asks Daphne.

"Anyone of you know someone who might be subscribed to  _Which Broomstick_?"

"Yeah, I saw Yarrow MacDougal, a first-year, reading it in the common room a while back," says Millicent.

"Be right back." Harry swiftly returns to the common room to retrieve his Map and approach MacDougal, who happens to be seated at a table near the fireplace. After a rather easy bit of negotiation, Harry parts with 10 Sickles for his latest copy and proceeds to the Owlery. Here, he tears out an order form (from the back of the magazine) for Spintwitches Sporting Needs shop in Hogsmeade.

It doesn't take Harry too long to complete his anonymous order form for high-quality Quidditch armguards, which he hopes will boost Ginny's moral come Gryffindor's final match. The order is now packaged, paid, and delivered on Thursday morning as it swoops towards the Gryffindor table.

"Quidditch gloves!" gasps Ginny, to which those around her drop their forks and lean closer.

"Brand new; just look at that quality."

"It doesn't say who sent it."

"Maybe it was Professor McGonagall to help us close the gap on Slytherin?"

Sitting far across the Great Hall, Harry battles to suppress his grin upon seeing the mass of students surrounding Ginny.

Pansy, meanwhile, laughs beside Harry. "That's surely something new for her, shame. So, when are you going to go  _crazy_  and spend money on us, Potter baby?"

"I didn't say it was me; you've got no proof."

Millicent and Daphne snort together before the latter speaks. "Oh, sure, and why did you buy MacDougal's magazine? Doesn't take a Ravenclaw brain to figure all this out. But, don't worry, we'll keep your little secret."

On the Saturday of Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff, Harry awakes earlier than usual and checks the Map for Ginny. "Who the hell is Peter Pettigrew, and why's he following my little rival everywhere? Goddamn pervert." Annoyed at seeing Ginny being followed around near her common room's fireplace, Harry conceals the Map and later meets up with Ginny at the base of the Grand Staircase.

"Good morning, Harry!"

Harry beams and immediately begins his questioning. "Good morning. Now do tell me: are there any guy friends bothering you lately?"

Ginny's totally bemused by the question. "No, why do you ask?"

Not wishing to reveal too much about his prized Map, Harry decides to be as cryptic as possible. "You sure? Nobody whose name starts with a 'P'?"

"There's bothersome Percy, as usual." Ginny glances quizzically at the narrow-eyed expression from Harry before smiling. "Or you could count a certain Potter following me about."

Harry shakes his head and laughs. "Never mind; I guess this 'P' guy's either really sneaky or you just haven't noticed him."

The bewildered expression on Ginny's face speaks volumes, and Harry therefore switches to discussing her Quidditch gloves.

"Oh, I absolutely LOVE them!" says Ginny. "And Ron's so jealous as well. Between that and his non-stop arguments with Hermione over Scabbers, things are really loud our common room."

"Heh, you know it was me who sent you those gloves, right?" Harry basks in Ginny's stunned expression. "Now, go and show Diggory that size doesn't matter in the game."

"I don't get it, though: the more we score, the harder it gets for you Slytherins to keep your lead." Ginny shrugs and enters the Great Hall while Harry takes his seat at the Slytherin table.

And it's not long until the game gets underway, at eleven o'clock, where Oliver Wood's team prepares for one final assault on the leader board.

 


	26. Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff

"Alicia goes for goal... shoots... SCORES! WHAT A RIOT OUT HERE TODAY, FOLKS! Gryffindor leads by 80 points to Hufflepuff's 50."

Desperately needing a win to stay in the running for the Cup, Hufflepuff puts on a fearsome resistance against Gryffindor's best team in recent years. Back and forth goes the action while the Seekers remain searching. From saving a shot to assisting the play towards goal, Oliver Wood commands his side in holding their lead. The game soon reaching 120-70 in favour of Gryffindor.

"GOAL BY HEIDI MACAVOY! DARN, IT'S NOW 120-80, GRYFFINDOR, THANKFULLY, STILL IN THE LEAD!" yells Lee Jordan over the megaphone, his excitement echoing throughout the packed stadium. Then, moments later, Angelina Johnson scores from a penalty award to put her team on 130. "Yes! Come on, you Hufflepuffs, give us some more penalties, yeah."

By the next Hufflepuff attack, Wood saves before calling a time-out; the crowd eagerly anticipating whatever change in tactics he's planned for the occasion. Nodding, the team takes off yet again and appear to be getting more aggressive.

"Whoa, Angelina outwits Macavoy before passing to Katie Bell. Preece comes to intercept for Hufflepuff but no, sorry, Katie passes to Alicia who speeds off towards goal. She shoots... SAVED by Fleet. Quaffle on the rebound but is... OH YES! TAKEN BY ALICIA WHO SCORES THROUGH THE RIGHT HOOP! 140 - 80 IN FAVOUR OF GRYFFINDOR. So far, it's 480 total for the Lions, while Hufflepuff sits on 190. Slytherin on 490."

As Katie Bell heads towards goal, one of Hufflepuff's beaters desperately swerve in front of her—and Madam Hooch calls a foul for Blocking. An argument soon breaks loose causing Fred Weasley to elbow the opposition beater in retaliation.

"Foul! Foul! Penalty to both sides now!" says Madam Hooch. Johnson's penalty attempt is then saved by Herbert Fleet, before Malcolm Preece challenges Wood on the other end.

"OLIVER GETS HIS FINGERS TO THE QUAFFLE BUT DAMN! JUST A SLIGHT BIT TOO MUCH ON IT AS PREECE SCORES! 140-90 in favour of Gryffindor still. The Badgers now totalling 200 towards the Cup this year. Come on, where's that Snitch already?"

Minutes later...

"Oh! Narrow block by our Ginny who remains on the lookout for the Snitch. Bless whoever bought her those state-of-the-art gloves!" says Jordan to which, somewhere in the Slytherin crowd, Harry laughs at the irony. Elsewhere, robes of scarlet battle their canary yellow foes across the field for possession of the Quaffle. "Macavoy moves in to shoot... SAVED BY WOOD! WHAT A CAPTAIN!"

Chants of 'Oliver' come surging through the Gryffindor stands in response to a fine save indeed. Banners of red and gold, and of lions, are proudly displayed across their stands. So boisterous is the atmosphere that Harry almost expects a few dozen Dementors to swoop across the field from such elation.

"SNITCH HAS BEEN SPOTTED! HERE WE GOOOOOO! GINNY, GO FOR IT! Also: Cedric Diggory's on the move; he's taller and sturdier, sure, but don't forget that Ginny's got a Nimbus 2000 against his Cleansweep Five."

Harry cannot resist the urge to cheer against Cedric. "Hell no! Go, Ginny!" The unexpected cheer draws a few quizzical looks from those around him. "No way I'm cheering for my next possible opponent. Screw Diggory!"

Pansy laughs and speaks beside Harry. "Hey, let's all have a bit of fun to annoy Harry or Draco's next opponent."

Murmurs echo throughout the dozens of students standing around Harry, Pansy, and Tracey. Some disagree while others laugh.

"There they go, Ginny in the lead with her 2000 while Diggory seeks to jostle her in the turn. Nice roll around to block being outmuscled—huh?" Jordan seems confused as approximately half of the Slytherin stands begin singing.

_"Diggory's broom is just a toy,_

_He'll get beat by Malfoy._

_Shame that Duffers can't do a thing,_

_Except succeed at absolutely nothing."_

Laughter arises from the rest of Slytherin, including Harry, as they now sing louder and louder. The jeers and derogatory remarks towards Cedric makes Harry raise his voice as loud as he can.

"Wow, that came out of nowhere. Anyway, Alicia goes for goal... SAVED! Quaffle passed from Fleet to Macavoy. —BAM!— Bludger to Chaser Applebee from one of the Weasley twins."

With both Keepers amped up and in form, the scoreboard remains at 140-90 after many attempts at goal.

" _DUFFERS CAN'T DO A THING_!" sings Slytherin loudly, until Hufflepuff Beater Anthony Rickett swats a Bludger towards the crowd.

"GODDAMN IDIOT! MOVE, PEOPLE!" yells Harry, and the game halts as Madam Hooch casts a spell to redirect the Bludger; her angry admonishment of Rickett can even be heard across the quietened stands.

"NO MATTER WHAT IS BEING SUNG, YOU NEVER AIM A BLUDGER TOWARDS THE CROWD. IF YOU CAN'T IGNORE THEM THEN PLAY SOMETHING ELSE! IS THAT UNDERSTOOD? BUMPHING FOUL. PENALTY TO GRYFFINDOR!"

Lee Jordan tries to speak but is briefly interrupted by McGonagall's voice over the megaphone. "Detention, Mr. Rickett."

Cheers now sound from Gryffindor as Katie Bell scores the penalty, putting them on 150 points.

"Look at that scoreboard! 150 Means Gryffindor are now sitting on a total of 490: level with the Snakes for the Cup! This is it, whatever we do now has got to be outmatched by Slytherin if they want to win it," says Jordan.

Cedric continues following the Snitch, using his size to hold off Ginny as she flies in beside him. Although her broom be superior, Ginny relies on outwitting Cedric on the turn and straights. She tries jostling him to which he leans and pushes her aside, both Seekers now nearing the Snitch.

"THEY'RE GOING FOR IT, GINNY LEANS IN TO GRAB, BUT SO DOES DIGGORY. Oh, looks like a Hufflepuff goal making it 150-100. Narrow miss of the Snitch as it flies over both Seekers now, and away they go once more. Hey! What is going on down there? Girls, relax! Angelina needs to calm her pretty face because Applebee has just dispossessed her, now heading for goal. Weasley hits a Bludger, deflected by Beater O'Flaherty and sent towards Ginny! Look out!"

Ginny instinctively raises her arms to the brunt of the impact with merely a bruise. Indeed, her new gloves have certainly done their job well as Ginny races to fly beside Cedric. Far behind them, Wood narrowly fails to save another goal and yells out in anger.

"Hufflepuff on 110! That puts them on 220 total, this is gonna be a hectic Cup if Diggory gets the Snitch. Focus, people!" Jordan sits at the edge of his seat as everything seems to have become hotly contested.

Minutes later, one of Hufflepuff's Chasers goes down to a Bludger but swiftly recovers; the Badger assault growing bolder by the minute as their stands roar them on through the might of Gryffindor.

"NO! ANOTHER ONE! PREECE SCORES PAST OLIVER WOOD, by luck, AND MAKES IT 150-120. Come on, Lions, show 'em why we're the best team this year!"

As Jordan continues voicing his disbelief at the match, Harry stands equally amazed by Diggory's team; they're taking the fight right up to Oliver Wood's excellent side indeed, just as Cedric had hoped.

"ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY NOW! THAT'S AFTER APPLEBEE PUTS AWAY THAT PENALTY!"

The singing grows even louder across the sea of yellow in the Hufflepuff stands, while Gryffindor cheers on their side too.

_"Hufflepuff! Hufflepuff!_

_We are tough._

_No disrespect to Gryffindor,_

_But we're closing the score!"_

But those in scarlet refuse to give up as Johnson, Spinnet, and Bell fiercely call in Fred and George to prioritise their aim at the Chasers; the tactic providing Gryffindor a better chance at swiping the Quaffle and organising their offense.

"Katie to Alicia, dodges Bludger, passed to pretty Angelina, OH! Dispossessed by Macavoy! Hufflepuff's Chasers now forming up in a scattered pattern along the left side of the pitch. Nice hit, Fred, George? Whoever! Quaffle dropped and picked up by Alicia who heads for goal!"

Minutes later...

"YES! THAT'S OUR GIRL! ALICIA SCORES TO MAKE IT 160-130 IN FAVOUR OF GRYFFINDOR! GET EVERY POINT POSSIBLE TODAY, COME ON!" Jordan's commentary only reflects the excitement of the match, and Oliver Wood begins to feel the pressure of needing to save every shot now. He cannot fault anyone as his team clearly performs at their best against an equally feisty set of Hufflepuffs.

"Applebee to Preece... shoots... SAVED! Brilliant, Oliver! Katie comes to scoop up the Quaffle, —WHAM!— Unlucky Bludger hit! Oh man, Macavoy snatches possession before coming at Wood. Shoots... SCORED! Hufflepuff on 140 now, this is an absolutely MENTAL match today!"

Harry tallies up the Cup so far, remembering that Slytherin sits on 490 with a game against Hufflepuff left. Ravenclaw doesn't matter, and Gryffindor on 500 so far in their final match. Hufflepuff would be on 250, and he hopes to have Ginny catch the Snitch.

"Looks like Hufflepuff are getting fairly confident now, too much so! Their Keeper's going nuts, look! Fleet's coming out to join in on the attack! They must be really confident that Diggory's gonna catch the Snitch. Speaking of which... it's still a closely fought battle near the Slytherin stands now. Ginny inches ahead of Diggory, but his longer reach is making up for it!"

Jordan waits for the action to unfold at Gryffindor's hoops...

"FLEET SHOOTS... SAVED! OLIVER, BOY, YOU ARE THE MAN! Quaffle passed to Angelina, oh, intercepted by Applebee who goes forward to shoot. Katie comes in to protect Wood but fails to snatch the Quaffle. Applebee shoots... SCORES! ABSOLUTELY NUTS! GIRLS, PLEASE HELP OLIVER OUT THERE! Ugh it's 160-150 and...hello? What's this? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—"

"Motherf—" Harry slams his fist against the barrier as the image of Cedric holding the Snitch grates on his every nerve. The Hufflepuff Seeker is immediately swarmed by his ecstatic team, and their crowd goes absolutely ballistic in the stands.

"IT'S OVER! 300-160 IN FAVOUR OF HUFFLEPUFF! So, looks like the standings are as follows before one final match between the Badgers and Snakes: Gryffindor: 500, Slytherin: 490, Hufflepuff: 410, Ravenclaw: doesn't really matter anyway."

Jordan's voice lowers to one of consolation, especially as Oliver Wood seems to land upon the grass in tears. "That was an absolutely terrific season, for all us Lions. Don't cry, Oliver, we gave it our all, and I couldn't be more proud of my team. Thank you for always being there to lead us. From Charlie to Ginny, you've had some brilliant Seekers to work with, and you've always had a head for tactics..."

While most of Slytherin cares little for Jordan's speech to a distraught Oliver, Harry nods in approval while standing right against the barrier.

"...love him or hate him, let's give a round of applause to one of the most passionate Quidditch Captains we've ever seen."

All but Slytherin clap their hands in tremendous applause, and Harry looks around before deciding to do the same. His gesture's soon followed by a few more Slytherins, especially the older students, which surprises even Jordan.

"Well, uh, okay then. Cool, I guess?"

From somewhere in the stands, Harry hears even Marcus Flint's booming voice. "OH CRAP, GONNA MISS BEATING THAT GUY."

Even though it's obvious that either Hufflepuff or Slytherin will claim the cup, Gryffindor's supporters swarm out the stands and engulf their team in appreciation. The distraught Oliver receives a handshake by countless boys, and hugs from many a Gryffindor girl.

Half an hour later, Harry seems to be the final student to exit the Slytherin, if not entire stadium's, stands. And he now decides to pay his first visit to the Gryffindor locker rooms. Treading lightly across the empty pitch, Harry quietly enters the tunnel and eavesdrops on today's runner-ups.

"It's okay, Oliver, we gave it our all this season. Like Jordan said, you did some real good here," says Angelina Johnson, presumably sitting beside Wood.

"There's gonna be a hell of a farewell party for you in June," says Fred.

"Thanks for giving me a spot on the team, and sorry that I blew our chance for the Cup," says a saddened Ginny. "I'm really sorry, if I could jus—"

"No need to apologize; you did great," says George. "Remember how Ginny outflew Harry in November? If the Dementors hadn't ruined that match, we'd have won."

Murmurs of agreement soon echo throughout the room while Harry continues to eavesdrop. The notion of his first name being used surprises him indeed.

"To be honest, I wouldn't mind if Slytherin won the Cup, even if just to stick it to Cedric Diggory," says Fred, while George wholeheartedly agrees.

"You guys are all so jealous over him. Get over it already," says Katie Bell.

Minutes later, Oliver finally speaks up through sniffs and sobs. "If there's one thing I would've wanted to achieve before leaving Hogwarts, it's the Quidditch Cup..."

Deciding not to give off the impression of eavesdropping, Harry braves stepping into the locker room and ends up having a surprisingly decent conversation with his rivals. Chief among this afternoon's topics is a proposed send-off match for Oliver (and, perhaps, Flint) sometime in June.

The next few weeks sees Harry probably at the lowest he's been this school year. All the effort he's made to apologize for the previous years' coldness towards Hermione seems to have fallen apart. Even worse for him is knowing how seemingly unfazed she was back in those years. He recalls her taking insults harshly by others, and yet she would only ever give him that scowl he now misses.

"You're pushing yourself too hard for some reason; stop worrying about whatever's bothering you and focus," says Lupin during one anti-Dementor lesson in late March. "What exactly is troubling you, anyway? Is it Sirius Black?"

Harry laughs dryly while standing in the empty History of Magic classroom. "Who? Oh, I almost forgot about him; doesn't bother me in the least."

Lupin nods and replies, "Whatever it is, you're holding yourself back from making any improvements. All this negativity is counter-productive to our lessons."

Sighing, Harry shakes his head, "It's really personal. Anyway, let's have another go at the Boggart." The statement draws a curious look from Lupin, who nonetheless continues with this evening's lesson. With the packing case open for the third time tonight, Harry draws his wand and yells  _"Expecto Patronum!"_

"You've done well enough alrea—"

The Boggart-Dementor swoops down to attack, and Harry gapes as his incorporeal Patronus briefly coalesces into a shape that lands on the classroom floor. It then scampers across the office before holding the Dementor at bay, right at the packing case. But it's short-lived, however, and almost uncertain of its form.

 _"Riddikulus!"_ Lupin forces the Boggart back into the packing case before turning around. "Brilliant, Harry! Absolutely brilliant!"

"Was that a 'true Patronus' as you've said? That little thing wasn't even as bright as I'd have expected," admits Harry, while Lupin appears rather thoughtful as well.

"I believe so, although you're right about the intensity. For all that Patronus Charm was worth now, I'd have expected something far brighter. Perhaps we should give it one more go next week and see what happens?"

"In Easter holidays? With a bazillion homework piled on us? I think we've done enough, Professor. I'm not scared of those Dementors anymore, I think. But won't it be funny for Hufflepuff to see a badger Patronus, should the Dementors invade our match?"

Lupin grabs the packing case. "You need to read up on your wildlife a bit more; that wasn't a badger at all."

"So, what did I cast?"

"An otter."

 


	27. Keeping a Secret

The arrival of April sees Harry still ruing his lack of contact with Hermione Granger, and this includes sighing as the Potions class begins filling with students. Moments later, Pansy joins Harry at their workstation as the class gets underway. It's clear that Harry's mood has sunk as he wordlessly begins brewing his Confusing Draught, paying more attention to his textbook than even Pansy whispering across the workstation.

"—can't believe you put up with all this. Sure the Hippogriff's gonna die, but after all the nice things you've done with Granger I'd expect her to be more understanding. Um, are you even listening to me, Potions boy?"

Sitting almost hunched over his textbook, Harry carries on without response. If he's going to be spending his next period with Gryffindor too, then he might as well keep himself occupied. At some point, a shadow looms over him, from behind, as Harry piles in his potion's ingredients.

"Wait, Harry, the book says to crush it," warns Pansy. But it's too late as Harry accidentally ends up slicing, rather than crushing, his mixture. "And Professor Snape's right behind you too. Oh man, you're in for it now."

Glancing at his textbook, Harry sees that he's misread the instruction. And he now watches his potion turn a shade of purple rather than blue. "Oh, darn."

"This was sheer luck, Potter, since slicing only makes it better," says Snape.  "Now,  _don't_  go sharing that with the rest of the world."

"What luck! Where's my quill?"

Pansy gawks at Harry before furiously whispering, "What the  _hell_  are you doing? Think you're the new author or something? Actually, I'll let you dirty yours while mine stays clean and pristine." She watches in amusement as Harry dips his quill then proceeds to scratch out 'crush' and scribble 'slice'. He then changes 'blue' to 'purple' while noting that it's more potent.

A loud explosion suddenly erupts from the Gryffindor side, startling the rest of the class.

"Thomas! I'd have expected such foolishness from Finnigan or Longbottom, but it seems it's spread unto you," says a livid Snape. "Malone, why didn't you warn him about overheating his cauldron? Two points from Gryffindor." Fortunately, for the Gryffindors, the clock tower's bell soon sounds. "I'm expecting no less than two parchments' worth of essays in over a week's time."

"Meet up at Divination?" asks Pansy, to which Harry nods before letting her leave with the rest of the Slytherin girls.

Meanwhile, Harry walks towards the door and stops as a clearly distressed Hermione drops her books across the floor. It's clear that her bag's struggling to carry its unusually large load. Deciding to take a chance, Harry approaches the frustrated girl bent over at her workstation. "Would you like some help? Actually, you really need help with all that; how many classes do you even take!?" He kneels to help pack her books away and takes the opportunity to whisper. "You look like hell, and something tells me it's not just about Buckbeak."

Hermione shuts her bag then stands up. "What class do you have next?"

"Divination, which we now share for awhile, remember? Look, I'm really and truly sorry for every—"

Before Harry can continue, Snape strides over and grabs him by his robes. "You're holding up my next class, Potter, get out! And take your inter-House infatuation with you! " He then shoves Harry, with surprisingly excessive force, out the class.

Hermione gasps and cups her mouth. "P-Professor! That wasn't necessary."

"Get out, Granger."

Hermione's scowl softens upon approaching Harry, in the corridor, outside their class. "Are you alright? That was quite uncalled for, the way he threw you out." To Harry's surprise, Hermione pats off a fair bit of dust on him. "I just need a few minutes to do something important. Meet you at Divination? Oh, and um, I guess Buckbeak's fate is really not your fault."

So relieved is Harry to have been forgiven, that he grabs her into a tight hug. "If it helps, I'll apologise to Hagrid as well."

Hermione  shakes her head. "There's nothing to apologise for, Hagrid knew you were extremely preoccupied. He'd never get upset with you, Harry. As for me, well, I suppose it was the stress of all this work as well that caused my outburst."

Harry grins and rubs his cheek. "Hell of a smack you've got there; I can still feel it even now."

"Get to class," says Hermione, heading off elsewhere and bewildering Harry since they both have Divination next. But with their friendship restored, Harry's whole body relaxes and he walks away with a new spring in his step.

"Huh, there  _wasn't_ any class being held up outside Potions?" Harry shrugs and later arrives just in time for Divination. Looking around, he takes a seat at an empty round table and awaits one of his dearest friends.

Both the Gryffindors and Slytherins appear equally bored from Trelawney's introductory lecture on crystal-gazing. Then, three minutes into today's class, an exhausted Hermione finally arrives through the trapdoor. "Sorry I'm late, Professor." She swiftly takes the first empty seat which just so happens to be beside Harry.

"My dear, are you truly dedicated to this class?" asks Trelawney, which elicits surprised looks from every student in the room.

"Can we please get on with the lesson, ma'am? I'm curious to see what the Orb might tell me about my life," says Harry.

"Very well."

Class continues as students peer into the crystal ball upon their tables. Meanwhile, Hermione sighs audibly while whispering that she'd rather be doing something more useful. Harry nods in agreement, but begs her to keep it calm here. "I don't get many classes with you, so let's enjoy this moment." The statement brings a smile from Hermione, although she does whisper about wanting to drop this class. "Well then, smart-girl, do it some other time,  _please_?"

"Ugh, fine. I was planning on walking out today, but I'll bear with one more lesson only because you're practically grovelling before me," says an amused Hermione.

By sheer coincidence, Trelawney announces that today will be the final joint Divination class between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

"There, now you can leave however you want next time, once classes resume after Easter week," whispers Harry, to which Hermione passionately nods in agreement. Trelawney, however, calmly requests that they not 'disrupt the clairvoyant vibrations' with their constant whispering. Once the bell sounds, Hermione hurries off for lunch, and Harry can't help but remain smiling. He even greets Trelawney in the kindest of ways he's ever done upon exiting their uncomfortable class.  Minutes later, Harry finds a secluded spot on the seventh-floor corridor and opens the Marauder's Map to check up on Hermione.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

His eyes scan over many areas of the Map, but Hermione's not in the Gryffindor common room. Remembering her assistance to Hagrid, Harry decides to focus the Map upon that location and sees that Hermione's stopped for a quick visit. Now, Harry opts to check up on Lupin while considering the latter's offer for one last anti-Dementor session. Although the professor doesn't seem to be in his office, Harry does spot another name here:

_"Peter Pettigrew."_

It puzzles Harry as to why a student would be snooping around the professor's room during lunchtime, on a Friday, and before a week of holidays. Could this person be trying to cheat on their assignments or tests? If everyone else has to feel the burden of work, then so should this Peter guy. The name does seem familiar, however, and Harry suddenly recalls seeing him all over the school—especially in the Gryffindor common room.

"You Goddamn cheating pervert, Pettigrew." Harry swiftly searches through many areas of the Map and finds Lupin walking along the third-floor corridor. "Mischief Managed." Determined to nail a Gryffindor for supposed cheating and trespassing, Harry practically runs towards the Grand Staircase before hurriedly heading to the third floor.

"My word, Harry, what's gotten into you? Going for a run indoors? Surely you'd prefer to exercise later on, and outside?"

Through heavy breaths, Harry swiftly replies, "Professor, there's a student... snooping around in your office..."

Lupin appears surprised. "Really? And how'd you figure that out?"

Worried about exposing his Map, Harry instead notes having heard noises from within the room. They soon converge on Lupin's office where they find...

"Nothing? But I'm sure I heard some student around here."

Lupin glances at him quizzically. "Well, everything appears to be in order as nothing's gone; not that I've left anything useful to spy on. But you've already missed most of lunch, Harry, so why don't we at least grab a bite of whatever I've got stored about? No worries, it's all fresh and safe to eat."

After spending lunch in Lupin's office, Harry uses any free periods to start on his other assignments. Eventually, at some point during the Easter holidays, he completes his Potions essays and heads straight for Snape's office. And it's here that Harry finally receives a certain broom from his Head of House.

"Is this...?"

"Take it and get out, Potter."

By Wednesday morning during the Holidays, Harry gives Pansy the 'honour' of carrying his broom into the Great Hall. But even they aren't prepared for the response, starting from Marcus Flint standing up in awe.

"FIREBOOOOOOLT!"

The statement immediately sets the entire Great Hall on alert as all eyes dart to the broom. Harry now reckons Pansy might've been able to cast her brightest Patronus yet, if only she knew how. With no classes scheduled for the rest of the week, and Harry's assignments more than halfway done, he jogs outside for his first Firebolt flight.

***

As April fades to May, many students flock to their studies. For between the upcoming June exams, finalisation of classes, and the rescheduled Quidditch match, everyone seems to be on their nerves. But for Pansy Parkinson and roommates, their worries appear to be on something else as well.

On Thursday, the 5th, a familiar round of speculation builds within the third-year Slytherin girls' dormitory.

"I know I've said this a million times probably, but Harry's been acting stranger than ever. Any ideas why?" asks Pansy, sitting atop her bed facing the shut door.

"I have absolutely no idea, honestly. Perhaps it's the rescheduled final? How would you feel knowing that you've gotta wait until  _after_  exams to play the big decider of the Cup?" asks Daphne, seated atop her own bed.

Millicent tries to make sense of Harry's recent change of behaviour in early May. "All of this weirdness from Harry started when the Mudblood's cat brought him something over a week ago. Other than that, I'm clueless."

"That's it! Perhaps Granger did something to Harry. Think about it: she's desperate to be top-of-her-classes, and I wouldn't put it past a Goddamn Mudblood to resort to such means. Harry often beats her in Potions and sometimes Defence too; there's just no other explanation to this mystery," says Tracey.

A moment's silence soon broken by Sally-Anne, who appears to have finished her reading. "So, all we know is that Granger's cat, and likely herself, are involved? Millicent, what did that flat-faced cat bring Harry?"

"Hmm, it happened far too quickly after Care of Magical Creatures class to remember. Lemme think... that thing caught Harry's attention by a tree at the Forbidden Forest's edge...ugh! What was it? Aha! I think it looked like a very old, decrepit envelope. Disgusting, really."

Again, silence fills the room as the five girls rack their brains at this unexpected mystery regarding their best friend.

"Nearly two weeks of seeing Harry this quiet again is enough. There's only one real way of finding out what's wrong, and I don't like it," says Pansy. "If Granger's doing something to Harry, then we need to uncover it before the exams. I'm not letting him fail because of  _her_. Here's the plan: after Potions tomorrow I'm coming back and searching around Harry's bed."

Daphne gasps. "What about Divination? You can't search a room and head all the way up to the seventh floor in less than 15 minutes. Even shortcuts won't help you there."

"Screw that; Harry comes first," insists Pansy. "Imagine if he fails his finals because of some curse or whatever was in that filthy envelope? Just cover for me as long as possible if needed, okay?"

The girls agree, and by Friday morning everything goes as planned:

They observe Harry throughout Potions and find nothing unusual about him, except for his sudden serious tone; his jokes, ambiguous comments, and other impish behaviour appear unusually diminished for awhile. As much as Pansy tries to get an idea of what's happening, Harry's persistent evasiveness sheds no light on his change. And once class is dismissed, Pansy manages to slip into the empty common room and head for Harry's dormitory.

She makes her way through the dormitory tunnels before entering the third-year boys' room. No smiles or mischievous ideas fill Pansy's mind while checking all over Harry's bed. "Come on, give me a clue somewhere..." Glancing at her watch, she notes that Divination is already underway and knows that her absence will draw attention. Over ten minutes of searching around sees her dropping to her knees on the floor, sighing in frustration.

Suddenly, Pansy spots the filthy envelope tucked between a few old textbooks in Harry's dresser. "If this thing is cursed...oh, screw it." 

_"To Harry James Potter,_

_Crookshanks saw you with what I know is the Map. So you must have seen Peter on it too, maybe even me. I don't think you know who Peter is. I would like to meet you, even if I can't change back under the current circumstances. Let's meet at 4pm on 4th of May by that place at the Lake where you often do those jogging exercises. Crookshanks says I don't scare you._

_PS: Bring something nice to eat. And remember, no matter what, finish your exams first before trying anything. I'll try to explain as much as possible when we meet."_

Utterly bewildered, Pansy hurriedly returns everything to their original locations and later reunites with her class for double Charms.

"Where have you been?" asks Harry, as Pansy walks beside him down the third-floor corridor towards class.

"Wasn't feeling too well; exam stress and all that stuff."

Harry looks at her and places the back of his hand against her forehead. "Well, you're not too hot up there now."

Charms progresses fairly well with Flitwick fitting in as much revision for their upcoming exams as possible. Then, by evening, Harry finishes up on his Quidditch practice before being accompanied up the castle's slopes by Pansy.

"Oh, hey, I thought you'd be heading back with the others?"

"Chasing me away now? Am I not good enough for you anymore, Harry?"

But their little conversation is cut short as Madam Hooch exits the stadium before walking past them.

"Potter, please be back in the castle in no less than half an hour."

Pansy spots an odd look on Harry's face but cannot understand why as he speaks. "Yes, sure,  _Sirius Black_  and all that stuff. I'll be back before the  _insane murderer_ can kill me," he says rather half-heartedly.

Madam Hooch isn't impressed in the least by his attitude. "You may not be taking the threat seriously, but we sure are. Don't forget how he slashed the Fat Lady, got into the common room, and even stood with a knife over Mister Weasley."

"You're lucky he thinks you're a Gryffindor," says a thoughtful Pansy. "But we can't be too sure how long it is until  _our_  common room is attacked."

Her statement is greatly approved by Madam Hooch as the latter returns to the castle.

"I just need to do something before heading inside. Ugh, there's no chasing you away, but don't tell anyone about what you'll be seeing now." Harry leads Pansy across the grounds towards a secluded spot by the Black Lake.

"Oh, are we gonna feed the giant squid or something?" she asks enthusiastically.

"Nah, it prefers Gryffindors anyway; to feed it treats, I mean. But I've got something better." Harry sticks his fingers into his mouth and whistles before throwing down his school bag.

"Why the hell are you still carrying that around when class finished hours ago?" Pansy's eyes suddenly widen upon seeing an eerily familiar black dog approaching from between the trees. "Isn't that the same dog from the pa—uh, well, um, never mind."

"What? Whatever, this is nothing but a lost dog who found its way into Hogwarts. Now  _don't_  tell anyone about this, you hear? Pansy, can I  _trust_  you?" The tone in Harry's voice both surprises and impresses her.

"Alright, but you must really have wanted a dog all your life if you're feeding some stray one. How'd one just happen to end up at Hogwarts anyway? And why not leave?" Questions pile atop each other in Pansy's mind as she simply cannot understand this truly odd situation. Surely it cannot be coincidence that a remarkably similar dog from last year just happens to show up again, and all the way out here?

Soon, Harry kneels down to retrieve some old parchment with senseless class notes on. The torn paper is then stacked with food, clearly taken from the Great Hall during lunch, which is ravenously devoured by the black dog.

"Don't worry, I'll get that bastard straight after my exams are done.".

Pansy appears thoroughly bewildered. "The hell are you chatting with such a simple animal? It's not an owl or something, and what does that even mean?"

After feeding the animal, Harry pats it on the head before wrapping up the paper which is burned with the Fire-Making Charm. "Uh, ash to help the grass grow, I guess."

"Whatever." Pansy tries shooing away the dog, to which it kicks a pile of sand over her shoes before running away into the forest. "Oh, what?!"

"Hahahahaha! That's what you get for being rude. Alright, let's head back inside before Madam Hooch gets a fit."

They eventually arrive at the wooden bridge where Harry suddenly halts to stare at Ron Weasley and friends.

"What are you looking at, Potter? Shouldn't you be studying for exams? Or have you given up because Hermione's gonna beat you at everything again?" asks Ron, while Seamus and Malone snigger.

But, to Pansy's surprise, Harry merely smiles and replies, "Tell your little pal he'd better watch his back after the exams, Ronald; I'm coming for him."

"What pal?" Ron looks around and tries to gauge which of his friends are indeed the smallest. "Uh, Roger, I think Potter's threatening you."

"I'm ready for a fight anywhere, anyhow, anytime," replies Malone.

Both Harry and Pansy cross the wooden bridge, with wands in hand, while ready for a duel which never happens. They then head for dinner and settle within their respective dormitories. And for Pansy, it's back to discussing Harry with the former's group of girls.

"So, what's the verdict?" asks Daphne, holding her Charms textbook before her.

"He's basically back to normal, I guess; nothing much odd."

"And the envelope?" asks Millicent.

"Nowhere to be found, I'm afraid. Look, girls, so long as Harry seems to be okay, there's nothing to fear. Frankly, I'm more worried about exams." Pansy sighs as she speaks. "Just over two weeks left and there are still classes in the way as well."

"Anyone up for a girls on boys session tomorrow?" asks Tracey. "We can practice spells against Harry and his boys."

Sally-Anne nods. "Alright, I think we can all do that, yeah. Lupin seems like a very practical type of guy; not too shabby for a Defence professor."

"Can't be worse any than Lockhart or Quirrell: one was an egotistical maniac, and the other hid a Dark Lord," says Daphne, whose eyes quickly glance upon Pansy. "Um, that must've been an awkward revelation for you, huh?"

Pansy nods in agreement. "I really hope Voldemort doesn't truly return, because I never told mom what Harry said about Quirrell."

"Wait, what? We thought you did!" exclaims a surprised Sally-Anne.

"Mom said he could read minds really good, so I thought it'd be best if she didn't know that Quirrell was carrying Voldemort for awhile. If I keep her in the dark, then she can genuinely withstand any questioning by anyone."

The entire room gapes at Pansy as Daphne speaks. "You're playing a dangerous game there, girl. If You-Know-Who does get back to power, he's gonna know you're Harry's friend. And your mom's gonna be answering a lot of tough questions."

"So? I'm not scared! Harry's gonna beat him again someday, and for good, hmph," says Pansy quite adamantly.

"Pansy, you're not the first young Slytherin who thought they're the most powerful witch at Hogwarts. These are some big risks you're taking by withholding information," says Tracey.

"What's life without a little bit of risk? If my Harry does it all the time, then why shouldn't we? Relax and let's focus on exams." Pansy smiles and gradually lightens up the mood in her dormitory again. "And besides, mom always said Voldemort was arrogant as hell. Do you really think he'd suspect  _poor little me_  of deliberately not telling mom about Quirrell? Do you think he'd go and read  _my_ stupid schoolgirl mind? I'm just the harmless little girl of my house; probably useless to him anyway."

"Whew, life's a lot easier not having too close links to You-Know-Who, right, girls? Well, except for you, Pansy," says Daphne, to which the rest of the room agrees. The evening continues as everyone reviews their books, assignments, and study notes before it's time to call it a night.


	28. The Exams Have Arrived

_First week of June, 1994._

Nearly everyone's dreaded week has arrived as exams are finally underway.

And for the third-years, this involves starting off with Transfiguration on the 3rd of June. For once, all four Houses practically ignore each other while sharing the same space outside class. But Harry's eyes remain fixated upon Ron, standing a fair distance away from McGonagall, as various names are called.

"Goddamn Mudblood," mutters Pansy, seated beside Harry on the ground as Hermione exits with a confident smile. But a light punch to Pansy's side quickly has her apologising for using the derogatory term. Minutes turn to an hour before Draco is called, and he eventually exits with a apprehensive expression.

"Hey, how's the  _P_  gang holding up?" asks Nott, which draws a quizzical expression from Harry. "You know, Parkinson, Perks, and Potter."

"I wouldn't joke if I were you, because you're up next," says Sally-Anne.

"Wha—?"

"Theodore Nott," says McGonagall, and Nott nearly bolts into class. Minutes later, he exits with a fairly satisfied, yet disappointed look.

Not one to waste time, McGonagall immediately continues the exam as student upon student gradually completes their first exam of today. And as usual, Sally-Anne, Pansy, and Harry huddle together for comfort before a stressful test. "Keep it calm, girls, we can do this," says Harry, wrapping his arms around their shoulders.

"Pansy Parkinson."

She leaps to her feet and almost sprints into the room. Then, once finished, Pansy exits with a slight smile as the exam continues. Next up are the Patil twins followed by Sally-Anne and then, finally...

"Harry Potter."

"You forgot the  _James_ ," he mutters while walking towards the door.

"Pardon me?"

"Uh, nothing, ma'am!" Harry enters the classroom and is told to Transfigure a teapot to a tortoise. And, in doing so, he concentrates so hard that he mutters the incantation, performs the wand movements, then even shuts his eyes in fear. _Please not a fail, please not a fail.. It better not be a fail._

"Potter, open your eyes to observe your work."

Harry opens his eyes and crosses his fingers upon observing his work. And if sneaking into the girls' dormitory, to study, hasn't done anything, then he'd surely feel like a dolt right now...

"You may now leave," says McGonagall, and Harry observes what appears to be a rather turtle-like tortoise with slight steam billowing out. Satisfied that it at least looks like a tortoise, he sighs and jogs out the Transfiguration classroom.

Lunchtime is spent eating practically nothing before it's time for Charms. And, once again, all four Houses of third-years ignore one another upon converging outside the third-floor classroom. What can hardly be ignored, however, is a sudden putrid stench permeating the corridor.

"Sorry, nerves," says Crabbe.

"Wha—argh! For God's sake, Crabbe. The hell do you eat?" asks Draco, hurriedly standing up and joining the group of students moving away from the odorous zone.

"Is there anything he doesn't eat?" asks Ron.

"What is that  _smell_ _?_ " asks Harry, glancing around him. "Pansy, is that your arse that exploded?"

She grins wickedly. "No, it was Crabbe's. But since you thought of that..."

"What are you—hey!" Harry gasps as she sits on the palm of his hand beside him. "Get off my hand, come on."

"Talking about  _my_  arse now, eh? Say you're sorry..."

Harry smirks as she stands up. "Nice and firm, though." His comment is met with a few gasps from the girls seated opposite him in the corridor.

"Oh, you girls are just jealous, hmph!" Pansy flicks her hair then sits down beside Harry. "I want you as my Charms exam partner today, since Flitwick said it'd be like this."

But, just then, Flitwick steps out to declare the next few names. "...Ronald Weasley and Su Li, Sally-Anne Perks and Ernest Macmillan, Vincent Crabbe and Eloise Midgen..."

"Come on, pair us up," says Pansy, sitting rather apprehensively.

"... Daphne Greengrass and Lavender Brown, Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode..."

"No offense, Harry, but I don't need you here anymore." Pansy shoos him away and beckons Millicent over.

"Fine, I'll just go sit next to... I'll just have to wait." Harry stands in the middle of the corridor as the list continues.

"...Padma Patil and Parvati Patil, Anthony Goldstein and Dean Thomas, Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom..."

A gasp of fear is heard to the far right of the corridor while Harry walks towards Neville. Murmurs of insults can be heard, from most of the Slytherins, throughout the next hour until Flitwick steps out once more.

"Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Potter, if you would please enter."

"What, are we sorting by birth month now?" mutters Harry.

"I'm g-gonna fail, gonna f-fail," whispers Neville upon entering the class.

"Gentlemen," says Flitwick. " Your examination's basically just the Cheering Charm. Now then, who's willing to go first?"

Harry's just about to let Neville go first but immediately feels a pang of pity. "I'll go first, Professor."

"Excellent, let's see what you've got, Mister Potter."

Seconds later, after hoping that all his studies have paid off, Harry spots an uncharacteristically cheerful expression cross the face of Neville before him.

"Such a beautiful Cheering Charm!" says Flitwick. "Well done, excellent! Mister Longbottom, you're up next."

With Harry's spell still affecting him, Neville tries his best to perform the Cheering Charm.

"Not as impressive as Mister Potter's, but nonetheless an excellent attempt indeed.  Do enjoy the rest of the day, and be sure to study hard for your upcoming examinations elsewhere."

The boys immediately exit in broad smiles, drawing exceptionally bemused looks from the remaining students outside. And since Flitwick hadn't sorted alphabetically, Harry walks past an observant Hermione towards the Grand Staircase. 

They eventually reach the marble staircase where Neville finally decides speak. "Um, t-thanks, I really thought I was going to fail that one, Harry."

"Nah, you did good... with a bit of help. I reckon that'd be an A or perhaps an E, if you're lucky. Now, I reckon you should go and relax or study before my pals show up here," says Harry, taking his leave towards the dungeons.

Barring a few jokes regarding Harry having needed an O-level charm to cheer 'Loser Longbottom', the common room remains entrenched in studying. And it's not long until Harry finds himself seated at a table beside the fifth-year, Yasmin.

"Harry, I reckon you're braver than most of these boys I've just asked," she says. "So, would you mind helping me with my Charms and Defence homework?"

"I'd love to help a pretty student, oh mighty Prefect."

"Good; now let's go, little one." Yasmin stands up, pulls out Harry's high-backed chair, then leads him out into the empty corridor. "You might wanna take this opportunity to practice the Shield Charm too. Plus, maybe I'll overlook your next infringement if you don't flee in terror here." She draws her wand and takes aim at the awaiting Harry.

"Yasmin, what am I expecting first?"

_"Stupefy!"_

_"Protego!"_

The jet of red light smashes through Harry's shield before sending him flying backwards.

"Whoops,  _Rennervate_ _!"_  Yasmin revives Harry from his nearly unconscious state upon the ground and sits him up. "Okay, so that one's fine."

"The hell was that spell?"

" _Stupefy_  is a stunning spell, and _Rennervate_  revives a stunned person. Problem is that you cannot cast it on yourself when you're knocked out, obviously. Want me to write them down for you? Wand movements and all? Told you this would be beneficial for you too," says Yasmin.

"Yeah, thanks. Went right through my Shield Charm, though."

"Haha, you need to practice it more, child. Alright, just a bit more... how about a bit of fun first?  _Wingardium Leviosa_ _!"_

Harry feels himself lifted by his clothing and floating up from the ground.

"I'm sure you remember from first-year Charms that this spell isn't working on the person but rather on their clothing." Yasmin levitates Harry throughout the corridor. "Now then, I hope you're ready for some fourth-year fun... _Depulso_ _!"_

"Oh crap, I know this one." Harry is sent flying through the air but lands surprisingly comfortably at the far end of the corridor. And to his surprise, Yasmin blurts out an apology.

"Oh my God, sorry!" she races over towards a confused Harry.

"What? I'm okay."

"Not you, silly!" says Yasmin, before a voice speaks from beneath Harry.

"Get off me right this instant, Potter!"

Harry darts to his feet so fast that his head briefly spins. Looking down, he offers his hand but finds it smacked aside as Snape swiftly stands up.

"Next time you make the understandable decision of blasting Potter, Shafiq, I would appreciate that you observe your surroundings first."

Yasmin hurriedly nods as Snape enters their common room. "Such a shame that Professor Snape's always going at you, Harry."

"Just some old anger going on in there, I think."

They continue their practice, outside the common room, until Snape exits and observes the pair. Then, after Harry's dropped from yet another levitation, Snape calls Yasmin over and mutters a suggestion to the Prefect.

"I don't remember covering that spell in class, sir".

"Then consider this a valuable learning opportunity." Snape sneers while looking at a confused Harry. "And  _don't_  go spreading it around."

_"Levicorpus!"_

"Levi-what-now? Oh, come on!" Harry finds himself hoisted into the air by his ankle, dangling metres from where the common room door would be in its brick wall.

Yasmin gasps and requests the Counterspell, but Snape merely smirks and starts leading the Prefect out the corridor. "Let us review your most recent assignments and Career Advice, Miss Shafiq."

"I'm not an animal hanging in a butcher like this!" Harry flails around in the air and groans. "Uh, hello? Professor? Yasmin... anyone?"

Finally, after approximately twenty minutes, Snape and Yasmin return down the corridor. The former now casts a non-verbal Counter-Jinx which frees Harry from his aerial discomfort. "Potter, Shafiq, if I catch any one of you casting these spells around school..."

"Sorry about that," says Yasmin, once Snape has exited the corridor. "He really spoke at length about work."

Speaking of work, the following day brings Hagrid's exam. And all that's required is to keep a large tub of Flobberworms alive for an hour, which involves doing practically nothing at all. Nearly each time the Professor passes by Harry's section, the latter whispers an apology. But Hagrid merely bends over, pretending to check up on his work, then replies, "Ain't yer fault, Harry, I know yeh're a busy man. Did Hermione tell yeh abou' the date?"

Harry nods, having already been informed of the Hippogriff's execution on the 6th of June.

By the end of Hagrid's exam, the entire class seems to have kept their Flobberworms alive. But such easygoing joy is short-lived with the arrival of Potions in the afternoon. Here, Snape walks to the blackboard and jots down his requested potion for today's examination:

_"Confusing Concoction."_

Blinking more than a few times, Harry can hardly believe his luck as he brews the potion he's so thoroughly revised. And at some point, he even slices, as opposed to crushing, a listed ingredient which causes his mixture to turn a shade of purple. This elicits a snigger from Malone which is quickly stamped out by Snape's presence near the Gryffindor's desk.  With time running out, and everyone else battling to thicken their concoction, Harry gives it his all as Snape moves to inspect his brew. Both parties observe the rather viscous mix which is then left to brew as stated by the textbook. Looking up, Harry sees a stoic Snape scribbling down notes on the former's mark sheet.

The day eventually ends with Astronomy at midnight, and Harry's class therefore gathers atop the tallest, and coldest, tower for their practical exam.

History of Magic takes up the following morning, and Harry racks his brains while trying to remember his revision—although he reckons it's barely enough to scrape a pass. As if the day couldn't get any worse, Herbology takes place on a blistering afternoon within the unbearable greenhouses. Finally, after suffering sunburn and throbbing heads, the Slytherins return to their common room to prepare for their final day of exams tomorrow.

 


	29. A Deceptive Potter

The 6th of June finally arrives, and Harry prepares for more than just his Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Divination exams. He's been hoping against all odds to have planned this right, while also remembering to face Buckbeak's execution.

But first, it's an early morning filled with celebrating none other than Pansy Parkinson's birthday. Regardless of the rush and stress of exams, Harry and the girls do their best in fussing over their mean-spirited, yet lovely, friend. Their celebrations don't last long, though, as the group heads for breakfast before it's time to face another exam.

Lupin seems to have compiled a surprisingly fun obstacle course outdoors, something none of the previous Professors had ever done. This only reaffirms Harry's wish to have him here for many years to come, for he's been one great teacher indeed. It also helps that Lupin seems to be the first Defence Professor having not yet tried to attack him in some way.

He soon navigates past a pond containing a grindylow, then crosses an area of Red Caps, while enjoying this examination. Second-last on the list is traversing across a patch of marsh while trying to avoid the misleading directions from a hinkypunk.

"Alright! I think I know what's next! BRING IT ON!" yells Harry, upon seeing an old trunk before him. He climbs into it ends up in an open area, slightly resembling the Great Hall in a way. "Dementor or Riddle? What'll it be today?"

From a cupboard at the end of the room emerges Harry, except that 'his' face happens to be rather snake-like.

"Oh, well this was unexpected. I suppose it's got to do with Voldemort in a way? Do your worst," says Harry, while looking at the form of the boggart.

Boggart-Harry raises its wand and yells,  _"Avada Kedavra!"_

_"Expelliarmus!"_ Harry instinctively casts the first spell he can think of, but recalls Pansy having mentioned the Killing Curse being 'unblockable.' As the weak jet of green easily sails through the Disarming Charm, Harry points his wand to the ground.  _"Bombarda!"_

The force of the explosion sends him flying though the air and out of harm's way. A tiny explosion now emitting simmering green flames behind him.

"Man, now this is really DEFENCE against the Dark Arts right here. Are you supposed to be Voldemort or something? I'm already over this fear, I'm nothing like him. So, boggart, you're not scaring me in the least. Let's continue duelling before I ridicule you."

_"Crucio!"_

Harry finds himself hit by whatever this spell is supposed to be and only trips over, which feels odd. "What's wrong? Can't do it properly? You're just a weak boggart anyway." Wordlessly, boggart-Harry runs up to him then takes aim.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

Nothing happens except for a nosebleed on Harry's part, which truly annoys him. "Come on, reject,  _Stupefy!"_ The seemingly fifth year level spell proves partially effective as it knocks back the boggart, though without actually stunning it.

_"Serpensortia!"_

Harry finds himself faced with his boggart, Voldemort-like self commanding the snake with Parseltongue. "Oh hell no," he soon issues his own orders in the hissing language. Then the serpent glances from Harry to boggart-Harry in confusion.

"This isss crazzy!" it hisses in complaint, before being disintegrated by Harry.

"Ha! Looks like you've lost the snake, now you're vulnerable. Time to end this." Harry fires off another spell. Though not before the boggart tries its earlier tactics again.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

_"Expelliarmus!"_

Both spells miss their intended targets, before Harry swiftly follows through with,  _"Riddikulus!"_ This causes his boggart self to transform into the same prancing Gryffindor-Harry he'd done before. And to top it off, Harry tries casting  _Levicorpus_ on it.

He succeeds and laughs at his boggart self being suspended in mid-air, before it retreats into its cupboard at the far end of the room. With nothing left to do, Harry walks towards the exit of the room which results in him now climbing out of the trunk.

"I was getting worried about you, Harry," says Lupin, while standing before the next student in line, Hermione.

"Yeah, I expected a dementor but ended up facing a mixture of Voldemort and myself. Was quite the duel that you missed, sir. Anyway, what's done is done."

Lupin nods, then smiles, "Really? Well, you're fortunate that it's just a boggart. Full marks indeed, I can tell you've succeeded. Darn unlucky about the Voldemort part though."

Hermione gasps, whether from Harry's perfect score or his boggart, he can't be too sure why. He decides to stay and watch her perform her exam. Everything seems to be going perfectly well until she enters the trunk, eventually screams, then exits.

"What happened?" asks a startled Lupin.

Through sniffs and tears, in a fearful manner which Harry's rarely seen before, Hermione explains about her boggart. Her Head of House seemingly having failed her in everything.

"But have you conquered it?" asks Harry, with genuine concern in his voice. Relief sweeps over him as she nods, though barely having been able to perform the needed spell.

"Quite a harsh fear that is, and although you've conquered it... I was expecting a bit more from you, Hermione." Lupin's expression seems to suggest that she has passed, though not as expected. "I mean, Harry here has gotten Voldemort himself today,  _that's_  a terrible thing to go up against for an exam."

The look on Hermione's face is enough to make Harry tear up, and so he sighs. "Professor."

"Yes?"

"I, uh, might have exaggerated a bit. My boggart was just a dementor, nothing too special."

Lupin seems taken aback, "Did you just lie to me in an exam, Harry?"

"I'm sorry, I suppose this is a fail for dishonesty? I did cast the Patronus and then  _Riddikulus,_ though. Honest." Harry feels unnerved by the thoughtful expression of Lupin, who seems to believe the lie.

"You're very lucky that I knew your parents, and that they were honest, hard-working people. Though I'm ashamed to say that they wouldn't approve of your lies today. In this case, I suppose it's only right that I reduce what should have been full marks to just an A. Consider yourself lucky for not being failed for dishonesty, Harry."

"Yes, sir."

Lupin then turns to glance at a confused Hermione, "Well, since Harry's lied about Voldemort here... I suppose McGonagall isn't too bad. Let's make that A an E instead, Hermione."

Harry walks off with Hermione at his side, the latter expressing her disappointment at his 'lies'. "At least you had the decency to confess, and to think I was going to have my performance compared to a farce. But, there's other things to worry about now."

"The things I do for you, Hermione. I don't think you really know," sighs Harry, while walking beside a happy Granger that had narrowly avoided just an A. Though Harry's own Outstanding mark had been sacrificed for her sake. Their journey back towards the castle remains uneventful, until seeing Cornelius Fudge standing at the top of some steps. With neither Harry nor Hermione having really been on speaking terms with Fudge, it proves awkward to approach him.

"Looks like you two must've come from an exam. Harry Potter, I presume? Pleasure to meet you, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. As I'm sure you're well aware. You  _do_  know who I am, right?" asks Fudge, since Harry's never had an opportunity to meet him before.

"Yes, sir. I've seen you in the papers and practically everywhere. This is Hermione Granger." Harry gestures towards a rather surprised Hermione, who hadn't expected to be brought into the conversation. They both shake hands with the Minister before he laments having to serve as witness to an execution. Harry feigns confusion, "Oh, I'm sorry, sir, but whose execution? Not a person or staff member, I hope?"

Fudge laughs heartedly, "Oh no! Dear boy, those methods have long since passed. We've moved on from such barbaric ways. Today it'll be a mad Hippogriff that I'm sure you've heard attacked a student. Slytherin eh? Why it should be common news for you folk."

"Oh, that story. Now I remember! So when's it scheduled for?" asks Harry, whose deceptively innocent tone makes Hermione slightly gawk.

"Truth be told, it's supposed to be an appeal for this afternoon. But things are pretty much wrapped up. Now, if you'll excuse me." Fudge is swiftly joined by two representatives of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. One bulky man, the other an aged, withering gentleman. The latter confirming the time of the appeal as being 2pm.

While crossing the wooden bridge towards the castle, Harry turns to Hermione. "That appeal is totally an execution. Hagrid seems to think so, you do, and even the Minister himself. They're just following procedure. But Malfoy told me his father's scheduled the  _execution_  for 7pm tonight."

Hermione, on the brink of tears, grabs him by the arm, "There has  _got_  to be something we can do.

"All we can do now is be by Hagrid's side. I'll meet you after dinner, with my Cloak. See if you can head to that empty chamber off the entrance hall. And bring Ronald along, since you said that he helped you with researching  this whole appeal mess."

"Ron? Are you finally softening up towards him?" asks Hermione, with a hopeful tone in her voice. But Harry doesn't answer at all, and simply lets Hermione head off on her own.

He later heads to Lupin's office but finds nobody home. This is unexpected since he'd really hoped the Professor would be in now. "Oh crap, oh crap. Divination exam's in 15 minutes!" But panic gets to him as Harry simply leaves the parchment on the desk without even thinking of leaving a note of explanation.

He knows that Lupin will need a sign to realize that it's from him. Therefore, Harry digs into his own pocket and places a few blocks of chocolate beside it. Hoping it'd give the Professor some idea to follow him on the map. Sighing, he takes one last look at it to confirm what has stayed the same for over a month already. "Mischief Managed."

By 1pm, Hermione begins writing her Muggle Studies exam while Harry rues his luck upon arriving at the 7th floor. "It's bloody packed in here!"

Gryffindor and Slytherin students sit throughout the Divination stairwell. And to add to Harry's woes, Pansy appears thoroughly upset. "She's taking Gryffindor first! We'll be sitting here for AGES!"

Harry sighs, "Great, now this was also unexpected." And so they sit, waiting. Each minute dragging by as Harry begins to grow increasingly annoyed, much to Pansy's confusion. All five girls attempt to understand just what has him so agitated, to which he doesn't respond. By the time Harry finally hears his name called, his watch shows that it's already 2:40pm. The Gryffindors have now all finished, with Ron having gone in minutes before Harry. Trelawney seems to not be following alphabetical order, merely separating them by House.

Harry bolts up the steps, then hurriedly climbs the ladder before entering through the trapdoor. Even worse, the hot and stuffy class makes him feel utterly nauseous before he takes a seat at a desk. As expected, crystal-gazing seems to be the final exam of this year.

"Good day, my dear. Kindly gaze into the Orb, patiently, then let me know what you see," says Trelawney, while sitting on a chair opposite Harry.

"Yes, ma'am." He bends over and stares into the crystal ball as hard as possible. Nothing but swirling white fog, more fog... and then some more.

"Has the Orb shown you anything yet?"

And then, what appears to be two thin streaks briefly flicker within the fog. Harry blinks repeatedly while hoping that it wasn't just his imagination. More white fog, then the same flicker yet again.

"Professor, I'm seeing something in here..."

Trelawney leans enthusiastically across the desk, her eyes enlarged by her glasses. "You do? I mean, of course you do. What does it resemble?" she asks, in a whisper.

His heart races, as if begging the crystal ball to give him something to say, and not fail his exam. Minutes later, Harry spots it yet again. Barely discernible, it appears to be two flickers of green. They resemble two separate streaks, one from each side. Moving towards each other, clashing in a flash of green. And then the crystal goes its usual foggy white. "Two green streaks, ma'am, pushing against each other."

"Indeed!" whispers Trelawney excitedly, "A most curious sight in the Orb. But I have seen something similar for you in our previous classes. Its meaning is vague, however, this is a most pleasant occurrence. Green could spell envy, danger, or your House colours. Streaks you say? Very interesting." Trelawney then suddenly yawns, before slightly shaking her head.

"Something wrong, ma'am?" asks Harry.

"I had dozed off after Mr. Ronald Weasley's exam. He said I predicted something about the 'Dark Lord' and tonight. Can you believe I'd predict something as far-fetched as  _that_?"

Harry's eyes widen, and his heart races.  _Tonight?_  What of tonight? He tries to inquire further, to no avail as Trelawney brushes the question aside. But just as he stands up, Harry spots another flicker of an image, which he tries to explain, though admittedly confused.

"Hmm, sounds like someone of your affection will be tortured in the slightly distant future. Perhaps."

An amused look crosses Harry's face, "Alright then." He truly doesn't know whether to take this exam seriously or not. As for the crystal ball itself, he certainly doesn't believe a thing it tries to show. Trelawney, however, seems quite pleased with his exam. Which is all that matters for Harry in this year.

"Nonetheless, this was a rather pleasant session. You're free to go, Mr. Potter."

The trapdoor is yanked open before Harry hurriedly makes his way down. After gesturing to Pansy that Trelawney's 'crazy', he decides upon heading to Lupin's office. By the time Harry reaches the second floor corridor and enters the room, it's already past 3pm.

But still no sign of the Professor, and Harry soon understands why. After checking the map, still laying beside the chocolate, he spots Lupin in the grounds outside. A dozen 7th years, including Marcus Flint, now stand near him. It would seem that their examinations have only just begun.

The idea of leaving a note of explanation crosses his mind, but then Harry remembers something vital: Peeves. The poltergeist may, possibly, snatch these chocolates but not a simple piece of parchment. However, a note containing such crucial information would definitely be snatched and could jeopardise everything today. Although there's no guarantee that Peeves would even enter this room, Harry's taking no chances. And so he decides to forgo meeting Lupin here.

Instead, he heads to the common room, grabs his Invisibility Cloak, then tucks it beneath his robes. With arms folded to hide the bulge, he swiftly heads to the Great Hall for dinner. Once finished, Harry promises to explain everything to his baffled girls, if things go as planned tonight.

"Whatever the  _hell_  you're doing has us worried, Harry. Seriously, you're like... super weird lately!" admits Sally-Anne, as Harry seems to rush out of the Great Hall. With nobody around, he swiftly slips into an empty chamber off the entrance hall, where Hermione and Ron awaits.

"Harry! You won't believe what Ron's heard from Divination today."

"Trelawney said you mentioned her speaking about Voldemort?" asks Harry, while looking at Ron.

"Bunch of rubbish, really. I can't even remember what she said when she went into that... fit thing. Eyes all rolled back, voice deep, blimey. Something about You-Know-Who's  _follower_  and  _tonight_ , I think."

"Regardless, let's just get to Hagrid's by 7, then we'll see what happens." Harry and the pair of Gryffindors now listen to check for when the coast is clear. Countless footsteps soon fading as people leave for their common rooms, offices, or night patrols. "Cloak on, watch where you walk, Ronald."

"Harry, don't pick on Ron now! Hagrid needs us more than anything. I can only imagine his big heart being absolutely shattered if there's nobody to stand by him tonight," says Hermione.

Minutes later, with the sun gradually setting over the edge of the forbidden forest, the trio reach the Hut. Hagrid seems rather surprised, and yet wordlessly lets them inside where they remove the Cloak. Hermione instantly tries consoling him for what's about to happen, Ron takes to patting Fang, and Harry sits with a furious look.

"Look at yeh three, always findin' yerselves in the thick of things. Wan' a bit of tea?" he asks, with visibly trembling hands. When asked about Buckbeak, he informs them that the Hippogriff is outside, seemingly enjoying its last bit of fresh air. So nervous is Hagrid that he eventually drops an entire jug of milk on the floor.

"I'll clean it up," says Hermione, as she takes to clearing the mess. Her eyes soon gazing at Harry's expression. "Harry, are you alright?"

"What's wrong with him?" asks Ron, "Didn't know you cared so much about Buckbeak. Man, that thing was brilliant to ride. You missed out though."

But Harry remains silent while sitting in the corner of the room, and even Hagrid begins to worry. "If it's too much fer yeh, I'd suggest headin' back. Maybe that's fer the best."

"No, I'm staying right here until it's time."

They continue trying to find a solution to the execution, but it's of no use. Hermione forcibly withholds her tears while making everyone tea, and Ron tries comforting her. Hagrid seems on the verge of collapse from his grief-stricken expression, and Harry's eyes swiftly scan across the room. Searching every nook and cranny, but to no avail. Eventually, Hermione yelps while pouring milk.

"Oh my God! Ron! It's, it's  _Scabbers!_ "

The expression draws a look of disbelief from Ron as he immediately holds his pet rat. "WHAT? Scabbers, what are you doing here?  _How_?" While holding it to the light, he notes the withered look of his pet, which seems to be struggling to flee. "It's okay, nobody's here to hurt you. No cat, nothing."

From somewhere in the room, heavy, furious breathing can be heard. And it's not Hagrid.

"Here they come," says Hagrid who ushers the trio out the back door. They pass by the Hippogriff, which elicits tears from Hermione and Ron. The former now throws the Cloak over the trio as they hear voices speak from the front of Hagrid's hut. Seemingly Dumbledore, Fudge, and the two Committee members have arrived.

Hermione pleads with Harry and Ron to hurry as they silently walk around Hagrid's house. She simply cannot bear to witness what's about to happen. And as they now trudge back up the slopes, towards the castle, Ron seemingly struggles to keep Scabbers calm.

"He's going mental! I can't keep him still." The rat flails about, desperately trying to bite into Ron's hand. "Oi! It's me,  _Ron_ , your bloody owner for crying out loud. Ow!"

"Come on, we need to move!" urges Hermione as, far behind them, Hagrid's door opens. "I don't want to see this, Ronald, Please!" she pleads.

"Alright, but stay put you  _stupid_  rat." While Ron struggles to contain Scabbers, Harry and Hermione move forward beneath the cloak. Soon, the distant sound of voices are heard. Followed by the thud of an axe. And all goes silent, save for the squeaks of Scabbers.

"They, Buckbeak, it's over, I—" Hermione barely knows what to whisper, and they set off farther back towards the castle. Sobs coming from Hermione, a glum look on Ron's face, and the same angered expression still plastered across Harry's. The sun now all but set, as darkness gradually envelopes the castle's grounds. Once having reached open ground, Hermione speaks, "How could they... just how?"

"Scabbers! OUCH! He bit me! What the HELL is wrong with you?"

"Ron, shut up! Fudge will be out soon," whispers a tearful Hermione. Minutes later, she gasps upon seeing Crookshanks approach. "What? Why's he here? Shoo! Not now, boy. Go away!'

"No wonder Scabbers has gone nuts! That dastardly cat is after him once again," mutters Ron, who sprints out from the cloak as Crookshanks attacks.

"Harry! We can't leave him, come on!" Harry and Hermione hurry along as fast as they can beneath the cloak, but it's too difficult. "I'm sorry!" She flings off the Cloak, causing it to trail behind them, fortunately hooked into Hermione's clothes as they sprint after Ron.

Metres ahead, the sounds of Ron chasing, cussing at, and fighting Crookshanks can be heard. Determined to protect his pet rat against all odds. Laying atop Crookshanks, Ron refuses to let up, even as the rat now remains tucked away in his pocket. And then Hermione lets out a gasp of shock.

"Harry! Ron!" she calls, upon seeing a large black dog approaching from atop a hill behind them. "What in the world is that doing here?"

Ron manages to narrowly miss Crookshanks with his kick before the cat backs off a few metres. Hermione draws her wand, uncertain of what this all means. And Harry draws his wand, now aiming at...

"Ronald. End of the line."

The whites of Hermione's widened eyes can be seen even beneath the darkening skies. Lost for words, both Gryffindors look on in bewilderment as Harry takes a few steps back. With his wand still aiming from Ron to Hermione, he stands beside the growling dog.

"What the  _hell_  are you doing, Potter?"

" _Harry_? What's—"

"Shut up! Both of you," hisses Harry, while turning to look at the dog. "It's in the Weasley's pocket."

"Blimey, I think Potter's finally trying to kill me. I mean, I've always thought, but never believed... And to think I let him into my house. Ginny, everyone trusts him. Mum will never find my remains out here if he burns me..."

Hermione aims her wand at Harry, a look of utter betrayal on her face, "What is the meaning of this? Answer me right now, Harry James Potter!"

"We've already duelled once, and I won. This is a waste of my time. Stand aside and give me the bloody rat."

"No. I won't let you hurt Ron nor Scabbers—for whatever reason you're after him! I trusted you, Harry. I've forgiven you so many times before, but this...  _Everte Statum!"_

The dog growls as it watches Harry duel against Hermione, but decides to attack Ron instead.

_"Expelliarmus!"_ Harry disarms and catches Ron's wand, before Hermione's spells sail past him, narrowly missing Harry. "There's no time for explanations,  _Stupefy!"_

Hermione ducks to avoid a spell she hasn't expected, her moment of surprise cut short upon taking aim at Harry, who adopts Snape's duelling stance.

_"Flipendo!"_

Harry throws up a Shield Charm that finally blocks something, before retaliating,  _"Everte Statum!"_

_"Depulso! Expelliarmus!"_

"ARGH! HERMIONE!" Ron yelps upon being dragged towards the...

"Whomping Willow? What the—?" Hermione's thoughts are interrupted as Harry's attacks increase. "You darn Slytherin ARSE!" She fires off more spells which Harry evades, before he returns the gesture.

"You're wasting my time, move, Mudb— Granger,  _Stupefy! Everte Statum! Immobulus! Rictusempra! Expelliarmus!"_

The sudden barrage of spells fired off takes Hermione by surprise. She's never seen Harry like this against her, which immediately lets her know that something's not right. And then she flies forward after being hit by a branch. Harry's spells battering the nearby patch of grass in little explosions, dirt scattering about.

After rolling over, Hermione yelps upon seeing the Willow about to bring a heavy branch right atop her. An expression of grief, betrayal, and heart-break forms across her face while hearing Harry running off somewhere. "I trusted you..." she mutters, as the branch comes crashing down—but then stops, barely a metre above her.

"Do I have to keep beating you, or will you just come with me and listen? Look here if you want proof," says Harry. "You're so clever, but so darn  _dumb_  sometimes, Hermione."

She slowly gets to her feet, then gasps in shock upon seeing Crookshanks rubbing up against Harry's ankle, purring in delight. And the Whomping Willow seemingly limp.

"You said he's a clever cat, right? Half-Kneazle? Look at him trust me. If I was genuinely trying to kill you then he'd be all over me. And I wouldn't have stopped the Willow just now," says Harry.

" _Stopped_  the Willow? Harry Potter, just what's going on here?" demands Hermione, before Harry hurriedly explains about the knot in its trunk, and the tunnel leading to the Shrieking Shack. "How did you learn all this?"

"Just follow me, before he does something to Ronald who's shielding the bloody rat.  _Lumos._ " Harry grabs Hermione by the arm, uses his sleeve to wipe off a patch of dirt across her cheek, then leads her down the tunnel. His Invisibility Cloak having been dropped nearby.

"Who?" asks Hermione.

"Just move!"

They traverse, bent-backed, through one lengthy tunnel leading far out the castle's grounds. It soon rises, then twists before a dim light is spotted from an opening. "Alright, follow me," says Harry. "But no matter what you see...

Hermione nods, while issuing an apology for their aggressive duel today.

"Next time." Harry turns around with a serious look on his face, "You put your faith in me." Then leads a confused Hermione through the opening, into a very disordered, dusty room with paper peeling from its walls. Smashed furniture, and boarded windows only increase the confusion and worry on Hermione's part. Crookshanks soon exits the opening then heads out into a darkened hallway.  _"Nox."_

Harry leads Hermione out the room, into the hallway of the Shrieking Shack, and up a crumbling staircase. "I've got a bad feeling about this," she says.

"Just because you couldn't  _read up_  on it, eh? Everything will be explained soon enough." Once on the darkened landing, Harry heads for an opened door, and into a room. Crookshanks now lays atop a four-poster bed. A gasp sounds from Ron, laying on the ground, his leg seemingly broken from trying to fend off the dog.

"Ron!" cries Hermione before rushing over to his side, while Harry walks off to another end of the room. "Oh my G—your leg! Are you alright?"

"Hermione." Ron's expression seems grim indeed, "Remember Trelawney's prophecy I heard about tonight? I think Potter's the follower who's gonna be joining—"

"Where's the dog?" she asks.

"This whole thing is a trap. I'll bet they're gonna kill us both off. Think about it: I'm a Weasley, a  _blood traitor_  who's poor. And you're a  _Muggleborn_. Perfect sacrificial offering for their Dark Lord."

"WHAT? I don't understand, who's _they_?" asks Hermione, and then, simultaneously, she sees Ron staring over her shoulder, and hears a voice speaking from behind.

"Harry, you  _brave_ young man. I'm so proud of you."

Hermione spins around with her wand drawn, and then practically screams in shock.

 


	30. In the Shrieking Shack

"That's the dog standing right there, and Potter's either willingly following, or being controlled," says Ron.

The room door shuts to reveal a rather withered looking man with long, matted hair. His face like a skull, and yellow teeth showing with a smile.

"Lower your wand, Hermione, or do I have to duel you  _again?_ " asks Harry, standing defensively between her and Sirius Black.

"He's going to kill us all, Harry, especially  _you!_ Haven't you been hiding from him all year? Don't you remember all the effort we've made to disguise you in Hogsmeade? What about the fact that he slashed the Fat Lady, broke into the common room, and stood with a knife over Ron?" asks Hermione, trying to stay as calm as possible in this terrifying scenario. Her wand remains aimed at Harry, who seizes the opportunity.

 _"Expelliarmus!"_ Hermione's wand shoots out of her hand and into the air, before being caught by Harry. "If I only knew what was really happening around here, I'd have also broken into that common room. What a pity that 'Scabbers' wasn't there when you let me in past Cadogan."

"Don't listen to him, mum always said there's magic that can confuse people. Confundus charm I think, something like that," says Ron, still clutching at his injured leg on the ground. "Black's probably made him mental."

"You're the idiot that's been tricked, Ronald. You and your whole bloody family!" yells Harry, before Hermione balls her fists, seemingly ready to resort to Muggle duelling if needed.

"Don't you  _dare_  insult Ron's family. Every time I forgive you, it's like you manage to do something even more stupid. Using Crookshanks to gain my trust? How do I know you haven't confounded him?" she asks firmly.

 _"Finite Incantatem."_  Harry aims the counterspell towards Crookshanks, who simply looks at him from the bed. "Nothing, he's not attacking is he? Get it into that bushy head that Sirius and I are the good guys here."

" _Finite_ doesn't always work against potent spells. If Black could've escaped Azkaban then so can he perform outrageous magic," says Hermione, as stubborn as ever.

"The only thing outrageous here is the fact that we haven't killed that traitor yet!" says Black, which elicits a yelp from Ron.

"See? I told you! They're going after  _me_  first. Run, Hermione, run and get as much help as you can. By the time you get back I'll probably be ash or something," says a trembling Ron. And in an instant, Hermione lunges herself at Harry, both students crashing to the ground.

"Get off me—OW!" Harry battles to keep Hermione from reaching for her wand in his pocket, but gets a fist to the face. Then another fist hits him in the side of his face yet again.

 _"Depulso."_ Black's spell sends Hermione flying off Harry, and crashing into the four-poster bed, beside Crookshanks. The cat simply curling up and licking its paws. "Do something, help us, Crookshanks. I bought you from that store! You were stuck there for so long!"

 _"Episkey."_  Harry's face partially heals itself from its bruises, before he turns to look at Hermione. "Right now, your cat is a lot smarter than you. But this is wastin—"

Muffled footsteps can be heard from below, before Hermione and Ron practically scream. "WE'RE UP HERE! HURRY! SIRIUS BLACK AND HARRY POTTER ARE GOING TO KILL US!"

Before Harry can respond, footsteps race up the stairs, before blasting open the door in sparks of red. And in comes Lupin, looking as flabbergasted as he's ever been.

"Professor! Harry's with Sirius Black! They dragged us down here an—"

"SHUT UP! FOR ONCE, JUST SHUT THE HELL UP, HERMIONE!" yells Harry in frustration, before turning to Lupin. "I left you that Map because Sirius told me you're Moony. He said you'd know what it was. I'm sorry for shocking you like this today but Sirius told me to wait until exams were over. Didn't want me doing something risky back then. Did you see  _him_  on the Map too?"

"What Map?"

"Shut up, Ronald."

Lupin's expression truly shows utter disbelief and shock, and it takes more than a few minutes for him to compose himself. "Imagine my surprise when I found the Map of all things laying on the desk. I knew it was from you with those chocolates, but, this was all unexpected. You mean to say you had it all year long?"

Harry shakes his head, "Only from Christmas onwards, and I never knew who Peter even was back then. Kept seeing him at school, but thought he was just another Gryffindor student—"

"What is he talking about?"

"—keep your mouth shut, Hermione! Look, Professor, I know I lied to you in the exam, but this is different. If only things happened sooner."

Black speaks up, "And I'm sorry about only meeting you in May, but I wasn't sure. Crookshanks only spotted you with the Map before then. Took the poor thing awhile to get to know you. I couldn't risk revealing myself if you believed all the lies, and I couldn't prove Peter's existence. But the Map and, sorry to say, your ignorance proved quite helpful."

And now, to everyone but Sirius' surprise, Harry cannot help but tear up. "It was a switch! Sirius told me everything. Right near the end he made Pettigrew the Secret Keeper. My mom and dad are dead because of HIM!" Harry points to a bewildered looking Ron.

"M-Me? He's mental, Hermione, your friend has finally gone off the edge."

"Quiet, Ron. Something's not right here. Let's listen," says Hermione, who gasps as Crookshanks sits atop her lap.

"You expect me to believe all this right here, right now? Seeing everything on the Map just when I got back from exams?" asks Lupin. "I didn't even have time to think, just rushed here right away."

"But you saw him, didn't you? You know he's alive. Explain that, because your Map doesn't make such mistakes. And I'm sure nobody's seen a _Peter Pettigrew_ ghost flying around Hogwarts—in the Gryffindor common room!" says Harry.

"He's got a point, Remus, this boy's a clever one indeed. Should've maybe been a Ravenclaw. Peter's in this very room, and I've waited long enough!" declares Black.

"Why would we go through all this trouble, if Sirius just wanted to 'finish me' as people believe? Neither Hermione, Ron , nor myself can be witnesses if anything goes wrong tonight. Too easy to just say we've been confounded. But you're a qualified Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Help us make things right, Professor, please!" pleads Harry.

"Sirius?" asks Lupin, to which Black nods, as honestly as he can. "My friend!"

"Bloody hell, what?" asks Ron, upon seeing Lupin embrace Black like a brother. "It's just you and me now, Hermione, we don't stand a chance. Not against a psychotic Slytherin, rabid dog, and... a  _werewolf."_

Lupin spins around in shock, "How... you know?"

"There is absolutely no way Ronald found out on his own, Hermione?"

She nods, "Harry's right. I told him everything once it became clear. Pretty much has been for ages, especially after Professor Snape's assignment."

"Harry? You know too?" asks a wide-eyed Lupin.

"Sirius told me, when I met him here in May. It's a darn wonder I even managed to study properly for exams. Speaking of which I.." Harry looks at Hermione, then sighs, "Never mind."

"When I found the Map on my desk I suspected it was you. The chocolates, like I said, helped a bit. How many times haven't I given some to you throughout the year? Clever, Harry." Lupin now begins pacing up and down. "Has Sirius told you about the Cloak not working to hide you on the Map?"

Harry nods, "I was hoping you'd track us, because something stayed the same for over a month. Peter was always hiding at Hagrid's, and I'm ashamed to say that I used the execution as reason to have you track us to him. For you to see him for yourself on the Map. Hogwarts is massive, I'm sure you know that it's not always possible to see everything, everywhere."

"If only you weren't so dishonest in the exam. You deserve a lot more than just an A for Defence," says Lupin, rather regrettably.

"Was it a shock when my name approached Sirius' at the Willow? When it seemed obvious that I was taking his side against Ronald and Hermione?" asks Harry, now taking a seat on the bed beside a surprised Hermione.

"It was a little vague, not like the Map shows a duel quite clearly. Nonetheless, I rushed over as soon as possible. This was all such a shock you see."

"If only I could've left a note, but the risk of Peeves just stumbling upon it was too much," admits Harry.

"Can we get this done already?" asks Black impatiently.

Nodding, Harry stands up, then approaches a flailing Ron who kicks his good leg about. "No! I'm not going. Just because I'm probably the least favoured at home doesn't mean mum wouldn't miss me! They'll find out about this.. I'll... I'll come back as a ghost and tell them everything!"

"What is he talking about?" asks a rather startled Lupin.

"He seems to think we're here to offer him and Harry's girlfriend as tributes to the Dark Lord," says Black, which elicits equally loud gasps from Harry and Hermione.

"I never said she's my girlfriend."

"Azkaban may have taken its toll, but I've still got some common sense left," says Black. "You see it too, don't you?"

Lupin nods knowingly, "Oh yes, it's Lily and James all over again. Except the Slytherin colours. Never truly did understand them on Harry. Now where's the rat?"

"Sorry about this, Ronald, but you're too darn feisty.  _Stupefy!"_ Harry's stunner proves effective enough to knock Ron semi-unconscious. And immediately, Scabbers climbs out of his pocket. "Just like catching a golden snitch. Except this one's an actual bloody  _SNITCH!"_  He dives to the ground and grabs Scabbers by its long, bald tail to pick it up.

All Hermione can do is watch as the rat is passed to Lupin, while Harry returns to Ron.

 _"Rennervate."_  The spell revives Ron, who begins screaming.

"MY RAT! HERMIONE, THEY'RE TAKING THE RAT TOO!" But she simply sits at the edge of the bed observing.

"This  _is_  really him," says Lupin, while Black nods fervently.

"Peter Pettigrew, the one who betrayed my parents to Lord Voldemort. Let's see what the rat looks like," says Harry, ignoring the near squeak of shock by Hermione, and Ron.

"They're mental. All our Defence Professors have been nuts."

"Ron, I'm actually inclined to agree."

"Shut up, both of you," quips Harry.

"Who the hell is Peter Pettigrew?" asks Ron, to which Harry notes that he's once asked the exact same question. "Hermione, any ideas?"

She shakes her head, clearly uncomfortable in being so ignorant with regards to this situation.

"Sirius already explained. The official story goes that he killed twelve Muggles on a street. Then you get some people who think they know more about this. Some might recall Peter's name as being a 'hero' who confronted Sirius and was blown up, just a finger left behind—"

"Everyone knows about the twelve Muggles part."

"—shut up, Ronald. Then you get those, who knew my parents back then, who believe that Sirius is the one to have betrayed my parents' hiding location to Voldemort."

Black essentially screams now, "All lies! Twelve years of having to live with the guilt of not being able to do anything.  _I_ made Peter the Secret Keeper, so I am partially responsible for what happened."

"My parents and I were living so nice and safe in Godric's Hollow. Voldemort could probably look right through the window and see nothing, or so I was told..."

"Impressive, Harry. The  _Fidelius Charm_  indeed. Only the Secret Keeper of the place can divulge its location. Not even a house elf, for example, could try. Nobody else could. It makes sense now. Everyone knew Sirius was a dedicated friend of Lily and James. Peter wasn't a exactly the... most suspected person around," says Lupin, before Black speaks, practically snarling.

"That's why I made the switch! I was at greater risk than Peter. If I was captured, tortured, they'd get nothing out of me. And yet he still went and betrayed them all."

"How the  _hell_  did this rat become a Gryffindor? I see no bravery, no honour, no chivalry, nothing. I wouldn't even want him in Slytherin either," sneers Harry.

"But that's Scabbers!" insists Ron.

"Oh for f—" Harry turns to Black and Lupin, "Somebody please explain about my parents, Pettigrew, and Sirius being Animagi and keeping Lupin company when he was transformed."

The Professor seems truly impressed, "How much did you tell this boy, Sirius? Alright, listen up..." he proceeds to explain as asked, startling both Ron and Hermione. The latter notes how dangerous it would have been, especially considering the risk of Lupin attacking someone. A thought which he admits still haunts him to this day.

Now the bedroom door seemingly opens of its own accord, startling Ron. Though Harry takes the opportunity to suddenly feel Hermione's back.

"Wha—"

"You lost it earlier, didn't you?" he whispers in her ear. "That could be anyone in here right now."

"I'm sorry."

"This place really is haunted!" says Ron, before Lupin proceeds to explain about his transformations and the role of the Shrieking Shack. Soon making it clear that he was responsible for its seemingly haunted nature. The topic soon shifting to Snape and his resistance against Lupin's admission to the Defence post.

"Sirius played a trick on him many years ago when we were at school, involving me. It nearly got Snape killed," says Lupin.

"Served him right, sneaking around, spying, trying to get us expelled—"

Lupin speculates that Snape's interest in him was due to the animosity from school. Possibly from envy over James Potter's Quidditch talent, and now Harry feels that he can alleviate the situation, if his hunch is correct.

"That's where you're wrong, Professor."

"Excuse me?" asks Lupin. "And do you think you know more about your dad's schooling days than us? You're more like him than you'd care to admit."

"My father was still an arrogant Gryffindor bully. That's nothing like me at all. And I really don't think Professor Snape is as bad as you say—"

"Oh sure, maybe he's changed now, but you don't know Severus from back then," says Lupin.

"Everyone's got a bit of jealousy in them—"

Black interrupts, "It wasn't a  _bit_ , Harry. Severus was more than—"

"—I don't care! He's my Head of House and I refuse to speak ill of him, no matter what you say. Jealousy? Let me tell you something: I spent my whole childhood being jealous of my fat Muggle cousin getting everything he wanted! All the food and toys went to him. Poor little me just sat there, no friends, no real family, nothing."

"But you're a wizard, Harry. That counts for something," says Black.

"Oh sure, like I always knew about that. Point is I don't care how much bad blood is between Professor Snape and you people. All I'm here for is the chance to see some justice and..." Harry turns to look at Black, "Have one last chance for some family."

"WAIT, WHAT?" asks Ron and Hermione together, while Lupin nods rather knowingly.

"He's my godfather, Sirius Black. Told me himself last month. I didn't really believe it then but...now I do. So stop bad-mouthing my Head of House and let's reveal the real villain around here. Bloody little Gryffindor  _swine!"_

"Wait, before we get there. I see no reason to bash all of Gryffindor for this, or is Hermione not your friend as well?" asks Lupin.

"The way you continue to bash my Head of House, from things  _you_  people did to him back then? Look, we're all in some wrong here, like it or not. But all I want is my godfather now."

Black sighs, "I guess this makes you the second person to stick up for Severus."

"And the first?" asks Harry.

"Your mother, Lily. Well, way back in school. She always did try to make excuses for him. Trying to convince us how he  _wasn't that bad_ , and that there's still  _good_  in him."

"Well I think mom was right! For whatever reason she stood up for him, she probably did the right thing," says Harry.

"Sirius, maybe we picked the wrong godfather for this boy. He's kinda like Severus a bit, isn't he?" asks Lupin, to which Black scoffs, and Harry speaks.

"I've heard that one before. Regardless, I'm here for Sirius. Just give me the chance to have some family in my life, real bloody family—" Harry's sentence is cut short as Ron screams, and Hermione points behind them.

"Very touching, Potter," sneers a voice from the wall behind Lupin, where Snape stands pulling off the Invisibility Cloak.

"P-Professor? How...oh I see." Harry tries his best to act shocked at someone having snuck in with his Cloak. He hadn't truly suspected Snape of all people, though.

Tossing the Cloak aside, Snape smirks victoriously, "Be careful where you drop such things, Potter. Or did you forget basic first year guidelines? Nonetheless, I thank you." He remains aiming at Lupin's chest, before explaining how he had saw them all on the still-opened Map on the Professor's desk.

"What Map—"

"Shut up, Ronald!" yells Harry, trying to think of a way out of this situation. He's come too far to lose another family member. "Professor Snape, please, sir! I know you seriously detest this man, but have a little mercy. He's the only family I've got left. If he gets sent back to Azkaban, I... I dunno what would happen to me. Though I suspect that you're more likely to get him Kissed tonight..."

"Kissed?"

"Shut up, Ron," mutters Hermione, still seated on the bed.

The look of sheer vengeance on Snape's face starts to wither away all hope on Harry's part. But the latter remains adamant on pleading, hoping that he wouldn't have to ruin the rest of his Slytherin life by attacking his Head of House. "Please, have a little heart. I know you're a good person, sir."

"Good? Hi—"

"Shut up, Professor Lupin," mutters Harry, who then gets an idea from remembering what had been said earlier. He now adopts a duelling stance while aiming at Snape. "I.. I'll duel you if I must!"

Smirking menacingly, Snape snarls, "Stand aside, Potter, now you're acting like your  _father_."

Black moves to attack, "How dare y—" But is held back by Lupin.

"No, now I'm acting like my  _mother_ who wasn't afraid to stand up for others when needed. And right now, Sirius is my godfather who I'll be damned to lose!"

The comment catches Snape unexpectedly off guard for a moment, before he scowls. "Do you think Black's a hero? He's nothing but SWINE!"

"He's  _my_  swine then, sir. And I'll stand by him because I know that, in the end, he's a good person. Just like you. I won't pretend to condone their shameful actions towards you, especially since I know what it's like. My cousin made my life a living  _hell_  at Primary School. There wasn't a moment's rest before he threw me at a bin, chased me down the playground, or called me a freak. I had no friends to stand up for me. Right now, I'm possibly the last one able to keep Sirius out of Azkaban."

Snape grabs Harry by his robes, before slamming him against the wall. Lupin now doing his best to keep Black at bay, and quiet.

"You think you're very clever, eh, Potter? Think you've got this all planned out so well? Defending your  _father's_  friends?" asks Snape, in a menacing tone.

Sighing, Harry tries his best to remain calm. He likens this to when being fussed over and picked on by his handful of girls. "My mother's friends too, in the end. She wouldn't want me to lose the closest thing to wizarding family. Now please, just give us a chance to expose the traitor around here. The one responsible for both my parents' deaths."

And before he can react, Harry is yanked forward then thrown partly across the room by Snape, who remains fiercely scowling. His anger clearly heard through heavy breathing.

"Do it now, let's see the rat!" pleads Harry, before Ron speaks.

"Did he really just break out of Azkaban to come after  _my_  rat? This is rubbish—" But before he can add on, Black hastily explains about seeing Scabbers in the  _Daily Prophet,_  handed to him by Fudge on a visit to Azkaban. Which is soon thrown across the room for others to see.

"You're right, look at his front paw, there's a toe missing. Just like this rat right here," says Lupin, while glancing at the old image of the Weasleys in Egypt.

"Thank God your father won the lottery, Ronald," sneers Harry, eager to expose Pettigrew now. And Sirius soon explains about Pettigrew framing him in the street, before cutting off his finger while transforming. An argument soon ensuing over Scabbers and his unusually long lifespan.

"And to top it off, Crookshanks really  _isn't_  a mad cat. Just like its owner, he's darn intelligent, sniffs out all the right problems at the right time—"

"I do not 'sniff', Harry," says a slightly embarrassed Hermione.

"—I meant the cat. So, Sirius, explain about how the rat tried faking his own death  _again_  by leaving blood and all that..."

Indeed, Black explains about Scabbers seemingly framing Crookshanks for his 'murder' while seeking refuge elsewhere. And how the cat had aided Sirius for quite some time.

"This is the most  _absurd_  conspiracy I've ever heard," snarls Snape, who Harry sees as barely containing himself from attacking.

"Just listen to us for once, Severus—"

"Sirius, don't insult him, please," says Harry firmly, while trying to give Snape some reason to see sense here. "Enough explanations and talk, let's prove things here."

Lupin holds the struggling rat tightly in one hand, before Harry speaks yet again.

"No, my wand. Do it with my wand." He hands over his wand for Black to hold.

"ARE YOU MENTAL?" asks Ron, who repeatedly asks about the effect of the spell on Scabbers, to no avail.

"One-two-THREE!" Black fires a flash of blue-white light from Harry's wand, hitting Scabbers square in the side. The rat now frozen in the air before its small form twists wildly. After hitting the floor with another flash of light, its rat-like features begin to rapidly change. And moments later, 'Scabbers' is gone. Now replaced by a short, plump man who's truly unkempt, and rather balding.

Crookshanks snarls at him, its fur standing on edge, and Harry begins to feel a sickening burst of anger welling up from within. "Motherf—"

"Well, hello there, Peter," greets Lupin, while most of the room appears flabbergasted. Snape, in particular, seems to have an unexplainable expression on his face.

"S-Sirius, R-Remus... my old friends.." Pettigrew's voice appears rather squeaky, his eyes swiftly glancing upon the door.

Black raises Harry's wand, but soon its rightful owner snatches it back. "You heard everything, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?" asks Harry, his voice shaky, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

From behind, Ron and Hermione sit silently still, while Pettigrew tries to plead and explain his way out of this. Still, he maintains that Black is at fault, which hardly anyone in the room believes. "The Dark Lord is full powers one can only dream of. How else could  _he_  get out of Azkaban?" Pettigrew turns to point his middle finger at Black, since his index finger is indeed cut off. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has taught him tricks."

"Taught me tricks?" asks Black, before giving a humourless laugh.

"Voldemort scared the hell into you, didn't he? Oh what, scared of the name?" asks Harry, upon seeing Pettigrew flinch. "I wonder how the rest of the Death Eaters feel about you?"

"You know about them, Harry?" asks Black, which elicits a partial nod from Harry. Black begins to taunt Pettigrew by noting how those in Azkaban believe him responsible for Voldemort's downfall. As if the traitor had betrayed his own Death Eater allies. And yet, Pettigrew insists on trying to 'prove' that Black is the one at fault here.

"It's too bad you slept in the wrong dormitory, eh? Couldn't touch me in Slytherin, because your owner was what... seven floors up and away? If we so much as caught a rat in our dormitory... oh the irony. I can just imagine the sweet irony of Malfoy or Nott killing the 'Weasley rat' which actually happens to be the greatest traitor of all. So tell me,  _Peter_ , have you ever wished to kill me?" asks Harry firmly, and with little mercy in his eyes. Immediately, Pettigrew vehemently denies all ties to the Dark Lord.

"He would never dream of it, and I'll tell you why. It's because he was and always will be the biggest coward. Wouldn't do anything if it wasn't for personal gain. Voldemort is practically gone, a shadow of his former self, if at all out there. No way this traitor would even try risking something like that under Albus Dumbledore's nose. Peter always wanted bigger friends to hang out with, always preferred to be  _with_  the bully, than be bullied," says Black menacingly.

In the corner of his eye, Harry spots Snape taking some offense, and he therefore speaks. "Professor Snape's a far braver man than you,  _Wormtail_."

Before Pettigrew can practically run over to a fellow Death Eater, Hermione asks how exactly had Black escaped and ensured Azkaban.

"Yes! Thank you...there we go... he  _is_  a dark wiz—"

Pettigrew is scared silent as Lupin glares at him, before Black explains his speculation. Possibly using the Animagus form to simplify his feelings, or knowing that he was innocent for all those years. "But I'm certain that had Peter here heard one bit of news about Voldemort's return, he'd ditch the Weasleys in a heartbeat. Just needed them to keep up to date with the news, and for some living accommodations I guess. Though not much was needed for a rat," snarls Black.

"And of course, Sirius knew about me. Knew the danger I was in with this  _thing_  scampering about here. I suppose that gave him the drive to leave Azkaban for good, once he'd seen  _Peter_  with the Weasleys," says Harry, to which Black firmly agrees.

"Severus!" squeaks Pettigrew desperately. "Severus! These two bullied you relentlessly at school. I was just following the crowd, never meant any harm. I would've been bullied as well had I not followed them around. They mocked you...taunted you... James didn't like Lily being friends with—"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" Harry smacks Pettigrew with the back of his hand with such force, that he hits the ground with a loud thud. This is followed by a kick to the abdomen.

"Harry! That's enough, you're no murderer," says Lupin.

"Leave it to us," snarls Black, while requesting a wand. Meanwhile, Pettigrew grovels before a horrified Ron.

"Kind master... good boy... I was a good pet for twelve years, wasn't I? And your clever friend here... good girl... Aren't you scared she's going to be taken by Harry James Potter? The Slytherin star of the school? He's been all over her I can assure you... he likes her... looks at her in many ways..."

"I let you sleep at night... in  _my bed!_ " says Ron, with a horrified look on his face, while Hermione looks a mix of horror and embarrassment.

"That's not all, Ronald. This  _man_  probably saw you in the shower, saw you naked. Hell, I saw him following Ginny around, probably saw the little girl nak—"

"ENOUGH! YOU BLOODY PERVERT, TRAITOR, SCUM!" yells Ron, while kicking away at Pettigrew. And for once, Harry smiles at Ron, which in turn makes Hermione smile at him.

Then Pettigrew tries crawling to Harry before wiping off his shoes. "Please, your father wouldn't want me killed, would he?"

Harry scoffs, then turns to look over his shoulder at the silent Snape. "Oh I don't know. My father was a real swine, arrogant, bastard, tormenting, scumball, wasn't he?" The statement drawing a most passionate nod from the Potions Master.

"Indeed!" agrees Snape wholeheartedly.

"Wha—?"

"It's alright, Sirius, Harry knows what he's doing," whispers Lupin into a confused Black's ear.

"Severus! The Dark Lord doesn't show mercy. But he'll reward us beyond our wildest dreams if we... escape! There's still time. You're a fine duellist. Help me, please, help the Dark Lord, Severus," pleads Pettigrew.

"Like you helped my parents? Like you helped my  _mother_... to her grave?" asks Harry, though unsure of why it feels so right to stress Lily in front of Snape.

"Get away from me." Snape kicks away the grovelling Pettigrew who ends up crawling in the middle of the room.

"But Severus... the boy looks like James. Didn't you  _hate_  James? The boy even has his name. He has the skills of James. The witches follow him around, just like Jame—"

"ENOUGH!" Harry kicks Pettigrew once again, before turning to look at Snape. "But I'm not like my father. And you've already had your revenge, haven't you, sir?"

"How?" asks Snape sternly.

"I'm in your House, sir. Think about it... all of my father's talent, and nothing goes towards Gryffindor. As much as you hate my father and his friends... nothing I do is in their league. For every Quaffle I score, or snitch I catch, it's in your glory: Professor Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House. My father can never say that I've done it like him. Is he even proud of me for being in Slytherin?"

Hermione suddenly begins to sob, but is gestured to be quiet by a rather impressed Lupin. And after all Harry's insistence, Snape finally smirks most menacingly. "Probably not, knowing how blindly arrogant towards Gryffindor he was."

"Now then, enough with all this. Remus, shall we kill him already? I've got twelve years' worth of apologies to make up for not being with my godson," says Black.

"But perhaps it'd be more prudent to keep him alive," says Snape, without looking at Black nor Lupin. "There is nothing to be gained with a corpse. Even one which is supposed to be long dead."

Harry suddenly agrees with Snape, "He's right. We need him alive to confess first, otherwise it'd be extremely difficult to prove your innocence, Sirius."

"But I've waited twelve years—"

"Then wait longer, idiot. Or do you wish to end up back in Azkaban too? I'm sure Potter can cope with just his Muggle family. Doesn't seem to be any worse for wear mentally," says Snape. And as much as Black wants to retort, Harry desperately signals him to be quiet.

"We'll give him to the dementors after he confesses. You'll get a front row seat to the Kiss!" says Harry, and Pettigrew doesn't know how to respond. Lupin soon shooting ropes from his wand which bind Pettigrew helplessly.

"But if you transform, Peter, we'll  _kill_  you, right?" asks Black, to which Harry nods.

"He really means it, I swear, Potter knows the K—"

"Shut up, Ronald! We're wasting time here. Let's take this murderous, traitorous bastard back up to the castle," says Harry. Lupin soon conjures up bandages to hold Ron's broken leg as stable as possible.

They then soon chain Pettigrew up like a mannequin, with a limping Ron, then Lupin and Black holding him at bay. Snape refuses to release his expression of hatred towards Black, and takes to walking beside Harry. Oddly defensive, which elicits a confused look from him.

"Harry... about all this, all that's happened tonight. I'm sorry, the punching... your face... But your history, none of us knew all  _this_ ," says Hermione, while walking on Harry's left as the group exits the room.

"It's amazing how I even managed to study, while knowing all this," whispers Harry in response. The group, led by Crookshanks, awkwardly manages to traverse the tunnel back to the Whomping Willow. Along the way, Harry discusses the prospect of moving in permanently with Black, once he's freed of all charges. "I would love that, but Professor Dumbledore always insisted on spending time at the Dursleys too. And I mean, truth be told, they're not that bad. My aunt—"

Snape suddenly scoffs surprisingly loudly beside him.

"Something wrong, sir?" asks Harry.

"Dust in my throat, do carry on," replies Snape.

"We'll talk later then, once everything's sorted out. Well, looks like Crookshanks pressed the knot for us," says Harry, as the group steadily begins exiting into the darkened grounds of the castle. But then Snape suddenly looks up, as the clouds begin to shift.

"You _had_ taken that goblet I left on the desk?  _Did you_?" his tone as menacing as ever while looking at Lupin. "No you didn't, because I came to check again and it was still full, when I found the Map."

"The shock of seeing the Map on the desk, the names. Seeing Sirius and  _Peter_  of all people. Oh no..."

"POTTER!" Snape grabs Harry by the collar, dragging him away. "Distance yourselves, IMBECILES! HE'S ABOUT TO TRANSFORM!"

Harry doesn't know what to do, in the panic of things... the guilt of leaving everything for the last... he remains frozen still. All the while Lupin rapidly begins transforming into a werewolf as the full moon shows above.

—BANG—

—BANG—

Two flashes of light after Pettigrew had dived for Lupin's wand. Crookshanks and Ron now both landing aside in a heap.

 


	31. Duel with a Werewolf

 

"For your sake, Potter, I hope you've at least _tried_ practicing those duelling skills," says Snape, as stern as Harry's seen him yet.

With Lupin transformed into a savage werewolf, Sirius trying to fend him off as a dog, and Pettigrew escaping, things just can't get any worse. "I don't...have any practice against a werewolf," says Harry, whose heart races upon seeing the werewolf beating down Sirius.

"Harry! Pettigrew's transforming!" yells Hermione, from behind.

He spins around, "WHAT? NO! I WON'T LET THIS ALL GO TO WASTE!"

"POTTER!" yells Snape, but Harry's not listening. His attention focused upon the plump little man now transforming into a rat.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't let him get away. _Accio Peter Pettigrew! Accio Rat! Accio Animagus Rat, Accio Scabbers!_ " But nothing happens as Pettigrew now reaches his rat form, barely seen as a shadow beneath the moonlight.

"The Summoning Charm only works against inanimate objects. Fine, waste your time while I watch your godfather die," snarls a clearly frustrated Snape, as the skirmish takes place before the group.

"NOOOO! I..." Harry's heart skips a beat, but it's too late, Pettigrew has vanished. And right now the priority seems to be on quelling Lupin. Still, Harry aims towards the forest, wherever the rat could have gone. _"AVADA KEDAV—"_

Hermione screams, before something seems to have silenced Harry. Who now yells but without sound. A yank by the hair has him looking up at a wide-eyed Snape, whose voice seems truly concerned.

_"Where_ did you learn _that_ spell, Potter? ANSWER ME!"

In an instant, the silencing charm is removed, allowing a panicked Harry to speak. "Last year, while fleeing in the forest. It just... came to me, I don't understand. I'm sorry, but I... he's gone now." Harry's hands tremble, wondering if he's just made the worst mistake of his entire life right now. The frozen expression upon Snape's face being truly unnerving to Harry. "P-Professor, what are we going to do?"

Silence ensues as Snape seems to simply stare at Harry, Sirius appears to be losing the fight, and the werewolf now momentarily distracted. It sniffs the air, then begins walking in the direction towards some trees. Right where the rat had scampered away.

"Duel. Or do you wish to lose your godfather?" asks Snape, as the werewolf turns its attention to them. "It prefers to attack people."

"Then why did it look towards the forest? Pettigrew's a rat, not a person now," says Harry. But Snape walks forward, cautiously, while raising his wand. Sighing, Harry stays close, hoping they've got a plan of action. He listens attentively as Snape explains about the magical resistance of werewolves. Not as bad as other creatures, but still a challenge to take down.

"Aim for the legs, get it to slow down then we'll see. And don't you dare screw up!"

The werewolf swiftly turns around to spot the pair of Slytherins, before growling in a most fearsome manner. It begins bolting forward before Snape fires multiple spells at the ground before leaping aside. The miniature explosions doing a fair bit of damage to the werewolf.

_"Stupefy!"_ Harry fires his stunner which connects with the werewolf, though causing little harm. He now sprints to his left as it comes at him. Mere inches separates Harry from the werewolf, before he takes aim at a nearby tree. _"Incendio!"_

The sudden burst of flames startles the werewolf, causing it to briefly back off. But only for a few seconds as it soon gives chase once more.

_"Bombarda!"_ Harry's spell causes a small explosion right at the beast's feet, making it flinch. Snape then sprints towards Harry before pulling him back, and firing off a few non-verbal spells which repel the leaping werewolf.

Minutes of evading, firing off spells, and near misses later, Harry finds himself standing in an open expanse of field. He's already feeling the fatigue of repeated running and dodging, since his verbal spells seem to be further aggravating the werewolf.

Snape, standing metres away near the forest's edge, performs yet another non-verbal spell. The werewolf leaps, inches from Harry, who suddenly finds himself yanked by the ankle once more. Hanging upside down in the air, out of the beast's range. Harry finds it difficult but manages to fire off subsequent spells.

_"Everte Statum! Depulso! Stupefy! Immobulus! Flipendo!"_

As Snape sees the werewolf turning to him, Harry's handful of spells come streaking down from mid-air. Hitting it against its back. The momentary distraction now used by Snape to further assault its legs. But it proves quite resistant even against his attacks.

While dangling upside down in mid-air, something strange catches Harry's eye: flickers of lights coming from the forest. But he doesn't have time to think as the _Levicorpus_ suddenly expires, causing him to fall down right atop the werewolf.

One swipe later and Harry narrowly avoids injury. Though soon ending up thrown onto his back, wand flung from his grasp. Everything seems to move slowly as he tries to get up then, to his horror, spots the werewolf leaping at him. Its mouth opened wide, about to deliver a deadly bite. Panic sets in as Harry can do nothing but try to move back while sitting upon the ground.

But it seems too late, the werewolf has reached him, its breath practically felt on Harry's face. Standing metres away, a brief look of fear can be seen across Snape's face, before he raises his wand.

A flash of white approaches from behind, hitting the werewolf and sending it rolling over on the ground in pain. Harry backs off, horrified at what he's seeing. Vicious, slash-like marks appearing across its form, as if someone had grabbed a sword and mindlessly attacked. The moonlight shining across the grounds, illuminating the blood covering the werewolf's body.

"POTTER!" shouts Snape, as he runs up to Harry before kicking him aside. "I warned you not to screw up!"

"Not my fault sir, your spell expired right then—"

"Silence!" Snape turns to aim at the werewolf before he and Harry hit it with a combination of stunning spells, finally knocking Lupin out. Snape then takes aim and performs another spell in an almost song-like incantation, _"Vulnera Sanentur."_

The spell is repeated thrice, as blood seemingly moves back into the wounds, infection nullified regardless of being spilt across the grass. Then the nearby residue of damage begins to clear up as the wounds gradually heal. And finally, a wide-eyed Harry sits right beside the unconscious werewolf as its wounds finally knit shut.

"What spells were those? The slashing and healing?" asks Harry, to which Snape appears absolutely livid.

"None of your business, forget you saw _anything_ here." He then sighs, "We need to get dittany on these wounds, before they become permanent. Wouldn't want him looking any worse than he already does," snarls Snape.

"But... in this form? He'll be exposed if anyone sees him! Prefects, Head Boy, Head Girl, staff, there are people on patrol now," says a terrified Harry.

Hermione suddenly speaks from across the grounds, "Harry? You might wanna see this..." She comes racing over with something in hand, and Harry's eyes widen in shock. He cannot believe it, not at all.

"You did this?"

She shakes her head, with an awkward expression indeed, "Well, I can't really explain it here—" But her words are cut short by the sheer amount of joy in Harry's heart. Not knowing what's gotten into him, he grabs her into the tightest hug he's yet given. Then kisses the startled girl numerous times across her forehead, and everything feels so warm. Snape looks absolutely flabbergasted, whether from the gesture or...

"The bloody traitor!" Harry steps back, his eyes filled with tears of joy. There, laying stunned in Hermione's hand, is Peter Pettigrew in his rat form. "Do you know what this means? We've got him, Hermione! We've got him! But how did you do it? You bloody brilliant, amazing, beautiful, incredible, unbelievable, brightest witch of your age... GENIUS!"

The barrage of compliments has Hermione furiously blushing, though unable to answer. "I'm more concerned about Professor Lupin. He needs medical attention, but how are we going to get all the way to the castle this quickly? And what about Sirius Black?"

"Laying over there." Snape points to the wounded dog laying against a nearby rock, bleeding profusely. "Give me that _rat_. There's no time to waste. I will personally _expel_ any of you, should you make what you're about to see known across this school..."

Harry and Hermione both gasp, before the latter hands over the petrified rat, "W-What? I don't underst—"

Snape seemingly casts some sort of lightening charm on the werewolf, before grabbing it by the scruff of its neck. Then, before a bewildered pair of students, he seems less of a man. Now more of a shadowy, bat-like figure streaking through the air towards the castle.

"Did you see— Did he just— Wha—?"

"Harry, I think for now, let's not question too much. Your godfather!" Hermione hurries over a fair distance, before the pair of students crouch over the bleeding dog.

"No, hang in there, don't change—"

But it's too late, Sirius' injuries have weakened him enough to have him revert back to human state. An eerie cold now creeping across the grounds as hundreds of dementors steadily converge on the trio's location.

"Remember what I said about the Patronus Charm? Think you can do it? Hermione?"

Whatever she answers cannot be heard over the deafening wave of silence in Harry's head, and the familiar voice of Lily Evans. _"Not Harry!"_

He tries so hard to think about Sirius' freedom, the sweet feeling of revenge. Peter Pettigrew, somehow captured by Hermione Granger tonight. Harry's thoughts focusing upon the brilliant girl beside him. For as much as he'd done for her, she's seemingly repaid it all tonight. Twelve years of unjust torment now finally over for Sirius Black.

_"Expecto Patronum,"_ whispers Hermione, trying her best to perform the spell she'd practiced numerous times in secret with Harry.

" _EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_ yells Harry, mustering up as much positive emotions as he can. It's already over tonight, and he believes they've just got to hold on a little longer. Snape will be back, and the idea of the Potions Master being the better man invigorates Harry. He believes that, for as much as Snape hates Sirius, he'll surely do what's right tonight. And Harry doesn't care if he continues to hate Sirius from this day forth. The dementors swarm across the grounds, blocking out an already darkened sky as they converge. The screams in Harry's head becoming louder with each passing minute.

Then a thin wisp of silver escapes Hermione's wand beside him, but it's not enough. She reaches out to place her left arm on Harry's face, wiping off a rather nasty bit of sand near his eye. The gesture causing Hermione's wand to briefly expel a burst of incorporeal silver light, shielding them from a handful of dementors.

And then it happens. Harry is thrown a few steps back as a burst of silver erupts from his wand. "That's... incredible," mutters Hermione, as sound seemingly returns to Harry's ears.

A simple, lengthy but simple, burst of silver slithers out from the tip of his wand. The silver serpent bursting forth, charging at the group of dementors converging towards the unconscious Sirius Black. All Harry can do is look up and admire his first truly corporeal Patronus. Yet even though it's merely a plain snake, he feels proud indeed. The serpent now more than a few metres long as it slithers in a circle around Harry, Hermione, and Sirius. Pushing back dementors as they feed off it.

"All that talk about _King of Slytherin_ , I suppose you're right. Though, I'm rather disappointed that it's nothing more wicked. Not even a Basilisk, Harry? I was hoping to actually see one that wouldn't petrify me," laughs Hermione, while holding Harry around the arm.

"Oh shut up, I'm not an overpowered magical God or anything. Yeah, make fun of my plain snake all you want but it's doing its job out there. Though I wonder what happened to that faded, flickery otter from months ago?" asks Harry, while Hermione seemingly hasn't heard the question. The latter now holding her ground by assisting with her incorporeal Patronus.

The darkened castle grounds finds itself illuminated by a burst of silver, and a slithering serpent moving through the air. What feels like countless minutes pass by, before something else bursts forth from behind the snake. Yet another Patronus comes soaring through the air in a most spectacular fashion. Completely outclassing Harry's own, the magnificent Phoenix flies in from above. Swooping down to the ground, it only further repels the swarm of dementors who soon retreat upon seeing its caster. Then to Harry's left, patrolling around Sirius, is a silvery Patronus identical to McGonagall as a cat.

"Potter! Granger! Oh my, Weasley's out of it," says the voice of McGonagall, who comes hurrying towards them.

"My Patronus will eat yours up... Professor," laughs Harry, who manages one more joke before falling to his knees in exhaustion. His breaths deep and rapid, drained from holding the silvery serpent up for so long. "He's innocent, I swear, Sirius Black is innocent—"

Standing a fair distance ahead is Professor Dumbledore, angrily addressing the dementors and informing them of the change in circumstances. Meanwhile, McGonagall seems both impressed at the students attempts at casting, and upset over breaking rules.

"For as brave as you both were tonight, I suppose 15 Points from Slytherin and Gryffindor shouldn't be too harsh. Consider yourselves fortunate to have no further punishment."

Harry tries his best to cast _Rennervate_ on Sirius, which works surprisingly well. The latter now coughing as he sits up, eyes widened at the sudden activity around him. "Oh no—"

"We've got him! It's okay, I swear. Somehow _this_ brilliant... _angel_ "—Harry points to a profusely giggling Hermione—"caught him after he transformed. I dunno how she did it, but then Snape took Peter and an unconscious Lupin back to the castle."

"Remus? Remus is in there? In his... no." Sirius' expression seems a mix of elation and horror. "I.. but after all these years. His secret—"

"Madam Pomfrey will attend to him, before Professor Lupin is to be hurried back to the Shrieking Shack for the remainder of the night," says McGonagall, while seemingly shocked to be this close to a supposed _madman_. Then a truly excitable Crookshanks comes sprinting between the group, meowing relentlessly. Its bottlebrush tail swishing about furiously as it tries to convey some sort of message.

"What is it saying? Man, I wish I spoke cat as well as Parseltongue," says Harry, with a laugh.

"Fortunately, someone here does _speak cat_ as you so put it, Mr. Potter." McGonagall swiftly transforms into her Animagus form, and sits upon the ground.

"Oh look at that! Absolutely adorable!" Harry reaches out to pat McGonagall on the head, before she suddenly hisses and paws his arm aside.

"Harry! Show some darn respect already. That's still Professor McGonagall!" scolds Hermione, as the trio watch Crookshanks passionately relating some sort of message to the cat McGonagall. "You're lucky she didn't scratch."

Minutes later, McGonagall reverts back to her human self, before glancing most curiously at Hermione. "I had thought as much. Your cat seems to have told me a rather strange story with regards to Mr. Pettigrew's capture. I'm sure _you_ understand, Ms. Granger? Who gave you that rat, hmm?"

Hermione nods in agreement, while Harry stands utterly bewildered beside her. Crookshanks, meanwhile, goes from rubbing himself against Sirius, to headbutting against Harry's leg, to kneading Hermione's shoe.

"Wow, he's truly happy now, isn't he? I wonder why? Professor, what did he tell you?" asks Harry, while looking at McGonagall.

"Professor Dumbledore and I will escort Sirius Black inside. I believe we're due for a spot of justice tonight. In the meantime"—McGonagall turns to give Hermione an over-the-spectacles look—"I believe you know what to do. What time did you get that rat, now again?"

Hermione recalls checking her watch earlier, then replies, "8:35 on the dot, ma'am."

Now Dumbledore walks to stand beside McGonagall in the open expanse of darkened grounds. His gaze moving from Harry, to Hermione. "What an eventful evening, eh, Professor McGonagall?"

She gives a slight laugh before letting him continue.

"For as much tension as there may be between Gryffindor and Slytherin, when they put their differences aside... I think tonight is just another reminder of how brilliant our students—be they rulebreakers—can be."

Harry smiles brightly, simply grateful to have achieved a delightful end to such an eventful evening. He's always liked and respected the Headmaster greatly.

"Professor Dumbledore, I believe Ms. Granger needs to do something important soon. More than one life can be saved this evening," says McGonagall, to which Dumbledore immediately understands.

"Am I just going to be left in the dark here? Figuratively speaking I mean?" asks a confused Black, while Harry expresses equal bewilderment.

Dumbledore nods, then smiles as he looks upon his watch. "10:00 Now, I suppose it'd be best to give it... four turns."

Hermione agrees, "The execution was at 7 yes. That should give us an hour to get things right."

"Get what right?" asks Harry, before Hermione glances at him with a mischievous grin, not unlike Pansy often does.

"Oh.. remember what you told me? Well, I'll say it back. You're so clever but so darn _dumb_ sometimes, Harry."

McGonagall now looks at her with a warning expression, "And remember, _you—must—not—be—seen_!" And with that, Hermione practically drags Harry all the way into the edge of the Forbidden Forest nearby. She then pulls out a chain around her neck, adorned with a small, sparking hourglass which she throws around his neck too.

"Chain around the neck? Whoa, I'm really liking this up close and personal! We gonna finally go for the lips—"

"Shut up, Harry, I'm busy."

Before he knows it, everything fades into a blur of colours and shapes. Light swiftly returning before they find themselves back on solid ground. Looking around, Harry spots them now being in the deserted entrance hall, with the sun gradually setting outside. And before Harry can speak, Hermione pulls him into a nearby broom closet before shutting the door. "Time—bloody—travel," mutters an amazed Harry, to which Hermione gives him a slow, sarcastic clap.

"Oh, there _is_ a brain behind those pretty green eyes after all."


	32. A Race Against Time

Harry and Hermione now find themselves cautiously keeping out of sight while making their way across the grounds. The golden colours of sunset would be rather scenic to behold had they not been so preoccupied. Soon deciding to speed things up, they sprint across the grounds near the greenhouses. Using the trees of the forbidden forest as cover, they soon make their way towards Hagrid's Hut.

"Look, I understand that we need to free the Hippogriff yeah, but what did McGonagall mean by saving more than one life? We've already cleared Sirius' name, he's free," says Harry, while slowly moving behind the cover of tree trunks. Sunset still underway, and 7pm drawing closer.

"Or we still need to clear Sirius' name. Harry, once we free Buckbeak, we need to position ourselves in the forest and wait until Professor Lupin transforms," says Hermione.

"Why so late? Oh, yeah, we shouldn't be seen."

"Terrible things have happened to those who've misused the Time-Turner in the past," says Hermione.

"I can imagine. Would be a hell of a shock to see your future self just walking by. Or what if you end up killing yourself or your parent?" asks Harry, shuddering at the thought of messing up one's existence like this.

"Well it's not really a problem if you expect your future self or someone to show up. For example, I've seen future me walking to class on quite a few occasions. Although... do you remember when we sat in the corridor in September? After you and Parkinson duelled Ron, Dean, and Seamus?" asks Hermione, as they now approach the Hut.

"Yes I do, that's when you wouldn't let me look up."

"Well that's because my future self was walking nearby, and you would've seen her had I not pulled you down. Didn't want to let my Time-Turner be known. Also, I used it to get you into our common room, that's why I was so tired. Going back all the time takes its toll after awhile."

"You broke the rules for me?" asks Harry, with a rather fuzzy feeling at the thought.

"I'd ask you the same question last year. Pity I couldn't move in the hospital wing. About what Ron said..."

Harry sighs, "I don't wanna talk about it. And I still don't know how I suddenly came to know the Killing Curse right then and there. Change topic, oh, there's Buckbeak coming up now..."

"Did you hear that knock on Hagrid's door?"

"Yep, that's definitely us now. Like I said to Lupin, um, I kinda just used the execution to lure him out," admits Harry, as they now squat down behind the cover of trees. The pumpkin patch and hut visible before them. Soon, they spot the nervous Hippogriff tied to the fence around the patch.

"All things considered, I forgive you. Alright, it's 6:30 now, we've got a few minutes before the rest shows up at the front door," says Hermione. "Don't free him until the Committee members have seen him outside. That puts Hagrid in the clear."

Before Harry can respond, a loud smash is heard from within the Hut. Then past-Hermione's shriek of surprise.

"There goes the milk jug, and you're about to find  _Scabbers_. Truthfully, I was trying to find him too. Which is why I insisted on Ronald being here. The rat would've ran from anyone but him." says Harry, before Ron's 'reunion' with Scabbers can be heard from within.

"Darn you're cunning."

"Why do you think my Patronus ended up being a snake? That's how I roll, uh, slither. By the way, you're cute when you're shocked—"

"Oh come off it, Harry. It's bad enough how you're gonna react to the rat in my hands later. Hey, I think we're about to leave!"

As they watch from behind the trees, Fudge and the Committee members seem to be coming down the slopes towards the hut. After moving around a bit, Harry and Hermione now see themselves in the patch.

"Oh, what?" says Hermione, upon seeing the past-Harry 'accidentally' letting his hand slip somewhere. "Did you just sneak a grab of my—"

"Arse, sorry. Couldn't help it." Harry softly laughs upon seeing Hermione glaring at him, while their past-selves now hide beneath the Cloak. Soon the enough, the execution party arrives at Hagrid's front door, while footsteps can be heard retreating into the distance. "We're gone now."

A cold voice, presumably the executioner's, now speaks, "Where is the beast?"

"Out-Outside," responds a heartbroken Hagrid.

As the man named Macnair peers out the window to see Buckbeak, Harry and Hermione now back off to remain hidden in the trees. Fudge can be heard reading an official notice of execution to a sobbing Hagrid. Soon enough, Macnair is called away from the window.

"Oh crap, I just realized something—"

"Now? Can't it wait, Harry? It's now or never!"

"I've never approached Buckbeak before, Ron did in class, remember? That's why Malfoy got all uppity about it," admits Harry.

"Well it shouldn't be too hard getting him to follow. Since you already manage to get those Slytherin girls to follow you—"

"Hey! Let's not make it personal, alright? Fine, here goes..." Harry cautiously approaches Buckbeak, then bows, all the while muttering softly for him to follow. "Let's go, boy. Come on, quietly now."

After looking curiously at Harry, Buckbeak soon sinks to its scaly knees, before watching Harry fumble with the rope keeping it at bay. Once free, he battles to lure the Hippogriff towards the forest. Meanwhile, the execution party seems seconds from exiting the hut with Hagrid, and time is running out.

A nervous, white-faced Hermione peers out from between the trees. Her eyes widened while hurrying Harry along. "Come on!" Seconds of tugging on the rope later, Harry finally manages to get Buckbeak into the edge of the forest, and out of sight.

As minutes pass by, Harry speaks, "So that thud we heard up the slopes wasn't Buckbeak? It was just the axe against the fence? And Hagrid's cries...were of joy?"

Hermione chuckles while shaking her head, "Don't overthink things. You'll give yourself a headache thinking about time travel. Seriously."

"Serious— oh darn. Sirius! It's almost past sunset now, we gotta get Buckbeak deeper into the forest. Harry now turns to the Hippogriff, "Please, boy. Don't leave this place. They're going to  _kill_  you!"

But it insists on heading back to Hagrid, then Hermione speaks. "I've got an idea! As soon as everyone leaves for the castle, let's head back to inform Hagrid of things."

"Yeah, not like we need to take Buckbeak anywhere or anything. But don't take too long, 'cos I wanna watch my past self kick your past self's arse in the duel," says Harry. "You two never stood a chance against Sirius and I." They wait patiently until the sun has basically set, before heading back to the now empty hut of Hagrid's. Dumbledore, Fudge, and the Committee members now back in the castle.

"Hagrid!" says Hermione, while knocking on the door which flies open.

"What are yeh three still doin' out here? I told yeh ter head back ages ago! Where's Ron?"

Harry comes walking over with Buckbeak in tow, "He's, uh, gone back to the cast—"

But before the sentence is finished, Hagrid essentially runs over his pumpkin patch to grab the Hippogriff into a tearful hug. "Beaky! Oh, Beaky, yeh clever boy!" he then turns towards Harry and Hermione. "I can't thank yeh three enough for this! Best buncha friends any ol' gamekeeper coulda asked fer." A tearful Hermione finds herself squeezed into a hug by Hagrid before Harry gets his turn.

"I thought as much might happen." Harry and Hermione glance around in shock to see Dumbledore standing at the hut's back door.

"Oh no, Harry?"

"We're so screwed now."

But the headmaster merely laughs softly, "I assure you that your secret is safe, though I must ask... do I look any worse for wear in the next few hours?"

A wave of relief fills over Harry and Hermione, before the former speaks, "Not really, no. So, everything's okay? Being seen doesn't change anything?"

"Bein' seen? It's dangerous ter be out here at this time, Sirius Black—"

"Professor, how do you know that we're from the f— you know..." Harry's eyes dart to Hagrid, before he decides to keep the question vague. Meanwhile, Buckbeak is led into a safe hiding spot nearby while following Hagrid.

"I doubt you'd be able to make it from up the slopes all the way down here, without an Invisibility Cloak, at this hour too. I see Mr. Weasley's not with you now?"

"Ugh, my head is starting to pain from all this past-future stuff. So, if we hadn't gone back then Buckbeak would've died?" asks Harry.

"But that never happened"—Dumbledore gives a smile—"Because that's not how time works. It's a closed loop, you always had gone back. Don't think about it too hard, might make the mind insane."

Hermione nods, "Let's go, Harry. You wanted to watch our duel?"

Harry agrees, before turning to speak to Dumbledore, who then raises his hand to quieten him. "Don't spoil too much, I shall be on hand with Professor McGonagall. Might as well decide to keep watch and patrol near the entrance hall." Dumbledore then casually walks away, up the slopes, and towards the castle.

"Wait a minute, if we just spoke to him, and that's 'past' or 'present' Dumbledore... does that mean he has an idea of what's going to happen? Because later on, during our Patronus thing, McGonagall and Dumbledore do arrive surprisingly quick. So it was destined for us to speak to him here, which ends up helping us in the near future which ends up with us speaking to him back here w—"

"Harry."

"Yes?"

"Stop thinking. Just for a moment, relax before you go insane. No wonder there are so many stories about people going ballistic back in the day. One little unexpected encounter here, and look how you go on," says Hermione, while laughing.

They now head into the forest and towards the Whomping Willow, where past-Harry's voice can be heard in the distance. "You're wasting my time, move, Mudb— Granger, _Stupefy! Everte Statum! Immobulus! Rictusempra! Expelliarmus!"_

This is followed by the sound of spells battering the ground, before Harry and Hermione now hide behind thick tree trunks. "I can't believe that you almost called me a... _Mudblood_ ," says Hermione, wincing at the word. Sitting beside her is a truly apologetic Harry, whose voice softens as he speaks.

"Sorry, I didn't know what I was saying. It's just that I hear it so much in my House that it gets stuck in my head. But no matter how much I resist using it, I'm scared that someday—"

"Shhh, I understand. You're not Malfoy nor Nott, etc. Can't blame a kitten for doing what it picks up at home," says Hermione.

"Kitten? How cute."

"Hmph." They continue watching the battle unfold, Ron dragged into the tunnel, and then silence as the grounds remain empty. "Poor Ron, that must've been painful how his leg just broke."

"Not as painful as knowing my parents' long-time friend betrayed them to Voldemort."

Without the adrenaline rush experienced by their past selves in action, Harry and Hermione begin to feel to the cold of night. They now take to sitting together as the minutes pass by, until eventually footsteps are heard exiting the Willow. Snape's voice soon shouting above the rest.

"POTTER! IMBECILES! HE'S ABOUT TO TRANSFORM!"

From their hiding spot, Harry laughs, while Hermione simply shakes her head before speaking. "He's always so mean, talk about clinging to old grudges. You'd better not end up the same."

As the battle of the past ensues, Harry suddenly realizes something. "When Snape had me in the air, I saw something... lights coming from the forest. Then that means—"

"Yes, let's go," says Hermione, before two bangs are heard. "Any ideas on how we're going to track the rat?"

"Crookshanks. And thank God I learnt _Rennervate_. Bless Yasmin's soul for that, she's a prefect, by the way," says Harry, as the pair now move through the edge of trees.

"You go ahead, this was quite a surprise for me. But only because of all that's happening," says Hermione, as the pair now sit metres away from Pettigrew. To Harry's front left, past-Hermione appears to be checking up on a stunned Ron, while Crookshanks lays equally limp. "I'll be here, watching this craziness unfold. It's a darn good thing I know about the Time-Turner, otherwise who knows what would've happened?"

Just then, past-Harry tries to fling the Killing Curse towards Pettigrew, fortunately too far to see Hermione or himself in the forest.

_"AVADA KEDAV-"_

Harry moves forward, before stepping out from the trees, and towards past-Hermione who now screams.

"Hey, beautiful. I know your secret," says Harry.

She glances wildly from past-Harry being admonished by Snape in the distance, to the boy standing beside her. "But if you're here,  _and_  there—"

"You're so much prettier just a few hours ago"—Harry laughs before aiming his wand at Crookshanks— _"Rennervate!"_ The cat darts up, its fur standing on edge, while now hissing angrily.

"Yes, boy. Let's go get that little rat. But don't kill him, just follow him for us, alright?" Harry turns to look at past-Hermione, "Don't mind if I use your pussy now? Need to catch a rat and keep _time_ going." She simply nods before seeing Harry and Crookshanks disappear into the depths of the forest. The former now approaches Hermione, while Crookshanks stops, looks at her, then meows.

"I think he actually understands what's going on, seriously, this cat is such a gem of a find," says Hermione. "Find us a scurrying rat out here, and make it quick before it gets too far!"

They draw their wands before heading off, behind the running cat. With bottlebrush tail and bushy body keeping close to the ground, Crookshanks stalks his target in a predatory manner. His ears twitching attentively for the slightest sound of rat feet. And then he bolts forward, towards a deeper section of the forest.

"Oh no, we're heading in too deep. I think Pettigrew's trying to leave the castle grounds completely. We've gotta catch 'em before we end up in spider territory," says Harry, while hurrying alongside Hermione.

"Spider? You mean  _acromantula_? I've read that they're nested here, and Ron's told me about—"

"It might come to that again if we don't hurry up." Harry races through the forest, which grows darker as they head forward. The sounds of the werewolf duel becoming increasingly feint behind them as the pair follow Crookshanks.

As they run, Hermione notes how much different their footsteps seem to sound, before she has them stop. "Shhh, turn around." And once they do, both students gasp upon seeing two acromantulas having stalked them. Now moving forward metres from the pair of students. "Harry..."

"No, I didn't come back just to die. Back off! We won't bother you if you just leave us alone!" says Harry, before the acromantula standing at the forefront of the duo speaks.

"Last year's food comes back. And yet it dares to give us orders? Forget Aragog, this is our meal."

"We don't have  _time_  for this, please, just let us go—"

"Never! Stupid girl! Hagrid is not here to protect his kind, now we feast," says one of the acromantulas, which leaps forward at Hermione.

 _"Immobulus! Depulso!"_ Her spells slow down, then blast back the attackers. "Come on, let's go! Pettigrew might change back and hurt Crookshanks if we don't hurry."

Harry speeds beside Hermione, holding her by the hand as they run. Over a ridge they leap before landing in a clearing where Crookshanks can be seen farther on, being pelted by rocks. The silhouette of Pettigrew swiftly changing back into a rat upon seeing his pursuers near. But just a few steps later, Harry sees an acromantula leap from behind a thick, fallen tree trunk. "Hermione!"

She swiftly turns to her side,  _"Everte Statum! Flipendo! Stupefy!"_ Three spells hit the predator in succession, knocking it back, but only for another acromantula to sneak up from behind, then fire its web at her.  _"Incendio!"_

Simmering flames burn through the web as Hermione leaps to the ground before a clearly furious Harry who's trying to fend off another two acromantulas. One swipes him to the side before being blasted back by Hermione. The second trying to leap atop and web Harry.

 _"Glacius!"_ The freezing spell bursts forth from Hermione's wand and blasts back the attacker, covering it in ice which is soon shaken off.  _"Petrificus Totalus!"_  she petrifies one acromantula, giving Harry enough time to crawl out of harm's way. Though still being circled by two more hungry predators.

 _"Bombarda!"_ Harry fires the spell right at a leaping attacker, before grabbing Hermione and pulling her behind a rock. Acromantula remains now splatter violently across the clearing. "No offense to your friend, but you're a hell of a lot more useful in a fight against these spiders."

"Thanks, now how about we—HARRY!"

Hermione yells upon being swept up and held firmly by an acromantula as it now flees. With her wand having been dropped, she can only hold her arm out, desperately calling her friend. But the spider darts forward, effortlessly climbing over obstacles which appear to be slowing Harry down while in pursuit.

"You entered our domain,  _prey_." The acromantula moves farther into the forest with Hermione held within its leg. She furiously pounds her fist against the beast, but to no avail. Then, seconds later, the distant trees faintly light up as something seems to be approaching. Something tiny, weak, but moving faster than the spider.

Held high above the acromantula, Hermione looks on in utter disbelief as a tiny jet of green smashes into the spider's rear leg. It instantly falls limp before Harry comes racing along, panting as he tosses Hermione's wand to her.

"Tried...three times... couldn't get that Curse to work at all." He bends over to catch his breath, "Sheer luck at the end again.  _Incendio."_

"Harry—"

"We've wasted enough time already, and I'm worn out from all this running, fighting, and trying the bloody Killing Curse again. Let's go, I've burnt the other spiders already." Harry races to get back to wherever Crookshanks had gone, while Hermione rushes beside him.

"—you're going to end up in Azkaban if you keep on with that Curse! It's the worst possible thing anyone can use—"

"Mine's weak and I can't even do it properly. Just enough to kill a darn spider. I'd never try it on a person, wouldn't do much. Besides, the only Kiss I'm looking forward to is from someone like you," laughs Harry, as they reach the earlier clearing and now turn left.

But just as the pair turn, they gawk in disbelief as Pettigrew comes running straight at them. Out of seemingly nowhere, he trips Hermione by the leg before snatching her wand.

"Can't get away as a rat, not with that cat after me! Enough... I know spells that with make you cower in fear! I killed twelve Muggles like nothing, and nobody believed it was me." Pettigrew brandishes the wand at Harry to Hermione, and back in a swift manner. "The Dark Lord will reward me for killing you Harry Potter! Your mother and father put their trust in the wrong people... the Order was losing, the Dark Lord was winning. They were a small sacrifice for me to get in his good books—"

"Small sacrifice? How  _dare_  you!" shouts Harry, before Pettigrew aims at Hermione laying on her side.

"No, one wrong move and I'll kill her. Now then, where's the cat? Call the cat!"

"Crookshanks!" yells Hermione, before her cat comes hissing along angrily, its fur on end, clearly enraged.

"Stupid cat... made my whole year a  _nightmare_! I'll make it pay!  _Avada Kedav—"_

 _"Depulso!"_  Harry's spell blasts a startled Crookshanks aside, right as the Killing Curse hits the very spot it had been standing at.

"Crookshanks!? Are you okay?" asks Hermione, before swiftly standing up and kicking Pettigrew right between the legs.

"Ow, darn even I felt that," says Harry, while holding his own groin as Pettigrew drops Hermione's wand. The latter cowering in agony before swiftly transforming back into a rat. "Crookshanks! Get em!" The cat bolts forward and bites into the rat's tail, causing it to flail around helplessly before Crookshanks' face, trying to fight back.

 _"Petrificus Totalus!"_ Hermione aims her spell perfectly, now hitting the rat and petrifying it. "Threatening  _my_  cat huh? Be grateful we don't feed you to him, oh, good boy!"

"Excellent boy! This cat's a darn hero!" Both students run towards and pat Crookshanks on his head, back and sides. The latter now absolutely ecstatic as he runs around in circles, with bottlebrush tail swishing merrily about. "And you," Harry turns to look at Hermione, "are one brilliant witch."

"Yes, yes, now how about we take that thing back. I think I'll settle upon watching your past-self's reaction again." With Wormtail in hand, the trio soon make their way back towards the forest's edge, and right on time too. "8:33, here. I think you should do the honours."

Hermione tosses the petrified rat to Harry, who now leaves the forest to approach her past-self sitting beside Ron. Without explaining what happened in the forest, he simply hands over the rat to the startled girl, then smiles brightly. "Oh, you're in for a treat I tell you. I'd do it again right now—Ow!" Harry backs off as a stone hits him on the head, causing him to return to Hermione in the forest.

"On second thought, forget the dramatic reaction. We've got to get back to the exact place where I went back, by 10," says Hermione.

"And that's why it's so convenient out here. We literally just have to walk a few metres and that's that. Well, let's see if we can find a spot away from the dementors when they come," replies Harry, who walks off to a distant area to wait things out with Hermione.

"Look at that, very advanced magic I must say," says Hermione softly, while seeing flickers of past-Harry's Patronus fending off the dementors in the distance. Sitting right beside her is an equally amazed Harry, who smiles.

"I just thought about how everything worked out in the end. But what really got me going was knowing that even  _Snape_ , of all people, decided to do what's right. I don't think he'll ever stop hating my dad and friends, but at least Wormtail will be brought forward." Harry laughs upon being gently hugged by Hermione, as they sit against a tree laying on the ground. "But for whatever reasons Dumbledore has, I respect his decision on the Dursleys. They're alright I guess, think I'll stay a little bit with Sirius in the holidays too."

Minutes before 10pm, Harry and Hermione arrive at the designated spot in the forest to see their past selves having disappeared. "We made it, back in the present. Don't think I'll ever want to do this again."

"You're not the only one, Harry. This year's been stressful enough with all this time travel stuff. I've already dropped Divination and will likely give up Muggle Studies too. That ought to set things right," admits Hermione, as they now step out into the clearing.

"Excuse me for a moment," says Harry, who goes to whisper something to Black as he's escorted back into the castle by McGonagall and Dumbledore.

"Excuse me? I heard that! No way, Potter!" scolds McGonagall, though quietened by Dumbledore who says it'll be a refreshing start to the day.

An hour later, Sirius is given a discreet 'trial' with Cornelius Fudge, and the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones. With Peter Pettigrew forced into his human form in a seemingly empty Great Hall, and put under Veritaserum, he confesses the truth. While the rest of the school remains asleep, Harry and Hermione find themselves rather uncertain of what to do with Wormtail. Sirius so wishes Lupin to be able to witness the Potters' indirect murderer brought to justice. But the Professor now finds himself in the Shrieking Shack howling and clawing away inside.

"What do you reckon we should do with him, Harry?" asks Hermione, while holding him by the hand as they sit at the staff table. Beside them sits McGonagall, Snape, Dumbledore, Sirius, Fudge, and Bones.

"Sirius?" asks Harry. He looks to see his godfather having been able to clean himself up a fair bit, though visibly withered from his time in Azkaban.

"After what he did? No mercy, I'm sorry that you have to witness this but I've waited long enough," says Black.

"Well, I suppose we should get this unpleasantness over with already. I, uh, assume we've come to an agreement?" asks Fudge, while Bones nods.

"Send in the dementor," she says, and Hermione can't help but drop her head to Harry's shoulder as Wormtail absolutely begs for mercy.

"You were nice and cosied up while my mom was begging that night," declares Harry, as he watches Pettigrew fall to the ground. The dementor hovering over him, its hood pulled back, and the Kiss now being delivered in a most horrendous manner. Sucking out the soul of a traitor that had ruined Harry James Potter's entire life.

"No credit for Pettigrew at least being indirectly responsible for the Dark Lord's downfall?" asks McGonagall.

"No, this will look good for _me_ in the papers.  _Minister of Magic uncovers the truth behind 12 years of deception_. I think we can all agree on that?" asks an excited Fudge, which elicits sighs and nods across the table.

"Is it over?" asks Hermione, whose eyes remain shut as the dementor finishes its work.

"Yeah, for him though. Now he's nothing but a... thing I guess. No soul, I can't imagine what'd be like without a proper soul," says Harry, and for a brief moment Dumbledore glances at him before looking away.

"Well I daresay we should get this... whatever's left of Peter Pettigrew into Azkaban. You-Know-Who long gone, his follower Kissed, ah, all seems well in the world now!" declares Fudge happily, before raising a toast in celebration.

But Harry gives Dumbledore a look across the table, both parties knowing that all is certainly  _not_  well in the world. Though Cornelius Fudge would never admit the truth, especially after being thoroughly convinced that Pettigrew was just an old Death Eater acting on his own accord. Sirius may be a free man, but the Dark Lord remains out there, and in hiding.

"It certainly doesn't help that Fudge deliberately avoided asking about the  _current_  status of Voldemort," whispers Harry into Hermione's ear. She agrees while noting that it's too late for that now.

"You two should get some sleep already, especially since I believe there'll be a lot of questions to answer tomorrow," says Sirius, after having stood up and now standing behind Harry and Hermione's seats.

"Ah, I've already contacted Rita Skeeter of the  _Daily Prophet_. No doubt she'll revel in this tragic story," says Fudge. Soon, McGonagall and Dumbledore begin escorting the Ministry officials out while Snape stays behind. The Potions Master sitting silently at the desk with a strange expression on his face.

Harry stands up before walking to stand beside him. "Sir, I just thought I'd say... thank you for tonight. You're a good person and—"

But Snape simply stands up, then snarls, "You'd better win the Cup, or I'll put  _him_ "—Snape nods towards Sirius—"in Azkaban myself."

"Keep dreaming, Severus, I'm a free man now!" declares Sirius, with a hearty laugh as he stands beside Hermione. Wordlessly, Snape turns to walk around the high table and exit the Great Hall.

"Remind me to give you a few Galleons to spoil Crookshanks. He's a rather unsung hero around here," says Harry, while turning to smile at Hermione.

"That won't be necessary! But I must admit that this has been rather anti-climactic, especially for 12 years of lies," she replies.

"That's the Ministry for you, just wanna get things over with, when it suits them though. Otherwise it becomes a long, drawn out mess," says Sirius, as the Great Hall is now all but empty. "Harry, wake up early tomorrow, alright?"

"Sure thing, Sirius... godfather Sirius."

 


	33. Prepare for the Final

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book states the werewolf incident as happening on June 6th and the 7th being a Hogsmeade weekend visit. In reality, these dates fell on weekdays in 1994, a minor discrepancy.

_Slytherin Common Room, Tuesday June 7th, 1994._

With exams finished and summer in full swing, students hurriedly get up for a day of fun and relaxation. Since classes have essentially finished for this school year, the Quidditch final has been rescheduled for 12pm today. Hufflepuff and Slytherin seem abuzz with anticipation of claiming the Quidditch Cup, while it also seems the House Cup remains hotly contested. Depending on the outcome of today's match, either Slytherin, Hufflepuff or Gryffindor could claim the prize of most House points accumulated throughout the year.

Harry stands in the centre of his common room, dressed in casual wear as Marcus Flint livens up the room. "WHO'S GONNA WIN BOTH CUPS TODAY?" he asks, yelling as loud as he can.

"WE ARE!" replies the dozens of students who have already woken up for an early morning. Above all, the first and second years appear most enthusiastic over their first final. For the latter, last year had been cancelled due to attacks on Muggleborn students. The hype and excitement only increase as the minutes pass by, with more students gradually filing into the common room. As energetic as they've yet been.

Meanwhile, Harry now leaves with his five girls constantly pep-talking him for the match, while also wondering where he'd been after yesterday's dinner. They now ascend a staircase taking them all the way up to the entrance hall.

"Come on, Harry, why won't you tell us? Did you catch on something naughty? Snog Granger maybe? Gross," says an insistent Pansy, who repeatedly tugs his sleeve.

"He's hiding something, I just know it!" declares Daphne, which is swiftly agreed upon by Millicent, Tracey and Sally-Anne.

But he remains silent, though not without smirking, which only grows wider as they step into a dramatic scene in the entrance hall.

"And now? What the...?" asks Tracey, while seeing a dozen students fleeing into the castle in panic.

"Did we miss something?" asks Millicent, before Harry strolls forward towards the Great Hall on his right, entrance doors to his left.

"HE'S HERE! HE'S COMING! RUUUUUUN!" yells a panicked fourth year Hufflepuff girl, followed by a handful of others. They race to huddle together atop the marble steps at the entrance to the grand staircase.

"Who's here?" asks Daphne, while glancing around wildly, before more students suddenly flee into the Great Hall. Among them are a surprisingly fearful Weasley twins, as Fred and George follow suit.

"No ways, man. It can't be!" says Fred, while running into the Great Hall beside his twin.

"Fred, we're dead!" exclaims George, who shoves open the doors to head inside with the rest of the students.

"Where are all the staff members? This is INSANE! HEEEELP!" yells a few Slytherin youngsters, who've also taken to racing into the Great Hall.

"I still don't understand what all this crazy commotion is about!? What the _hell_ is going on here?" asks Pansy, before everyone in the entrance hall gasps in terror from a loud scream nearby.

"HARRY POTTER! I'VE COME TO KILL YOU AT LAST! TWELVE YEARS OF WAITING IS ENOUGH!"

"Ahem, AAAAAAAAAAA! NO! PLEASE DON'T! I BEG OF YOU!" screams Harry, while cowering in a corner as he looks towards the entrance doors. His five girls taken aback by this unexpected turn of events.

"Why are you— oh my God..." Sally-Anne, as well as the dozens of students gathered in the entrance hall, look on in horror. Meanwhile, Hermione descends the marble steps to stand beside Pansy. Sighing, she tries to stifle her laugh.

"Seriously? This of all things? Shouldn't have expected anything less."

"What are you speaking about Granger? Wait, who's tha—" Pansy gawks in disbelief as the double doors are kicked open. "No..."

With wand in right hand, Sirius Black walks in like a madman. Screaming, much like on the wanted poster, towards the terrified students who sprint into the Great Hall.

"HARRY! NO!" screams Pansy, while the rest of the girls draw their wands.

"Don't worry about me! I'll hold him off! Get inside the Great Hall and calm everyone down!" shouts Harry, as he ushers the panicked students inside.

"I'll kill all of you!" declares Sirius, while holding Harry hostage near a statue in the entrance hall.

"RUN!" yells Harry, to which the dozens of students flee to join the rest of the school inside the Great Hall. Soon the Slytherin Quidditch team, and the rest of their common room, stop in shock at what they're seeing. "Get inside!"

"L-L-Let our Seeker go!" stammers Flint, who soon decides that there's no choice but to head inside. Terrified youngsters follow him, while pleading for Sirius to spare 'their' Harry. Once everyone's inside the Hall, their chatter and panic can be heard even from outside. Though the staff soon arrive, led by Dumbledore.

"I believe we've had enough fun for now," declares the Headmaster, while descending the marble steps as Sirius and Harry run into the Great Hall. Indeed, the scene is of utter chaos and fear, with even the prefects being told to stand down.

"Full house." Harry turns to Sirius, then draws his wand, "YOU'RE NOT TAKING ME THAT EASILY!" Striding past the doors, Sirius takes aim and laughs manically before firing off a few knockback jinxes right at Harry's feet. The latter backing off to retaliate.

_"Everte Statum!"_ yells Harry, whose spell is easily blocked by a _Protego._

"ANYBODY TRIES TO INTERRUPT, AND YOU'LL BE NEXT!" declares Sirius, as whimpers and yells of protest are heard across the Hall. Ginny, in particular, seems to be screaming at Sirius attacking Harry. _"Rictusempra!"_

_"Immobulus! Stupefy! Flipendo!"_ Harry sneakily manages to aim his spells just a tad off target, while Sirius openly 'mocks' his poor aim.

"Somebody do something!"

"—no way man! He'll blow us up just like those Muggles!"

"Where's Dumbledore, the old man?"

"How did Black get past all those dementors and just waltz in here? Oh my God!"

"Bloody hell! I can't believe these two—"

"Shhh, Ron!"

"This is INSANE!"

Pansy's voice can be heard as she decides to 'save her Harry', though not before being forcibly held back by her friends. As the 'life-threatening duel' between Harry and Sirius continues down the Great Hall, Dumbledore soon arrives. And immediately the panicked House tables almost yell at him about a 'madman Black right here!'

But to everyone's utter bewilderment, Dumbledore calmly walks past the scene of Sirius having grabbed Harry into a headlock. The rest of the staff soon filing in, unimpressed by such antics even being condoned. Now Dumbledore stands at his owl lectern, before clearing his throat as students watch on in bemusement. Sirius still somewhat 'choking' a flailing Harry in the centre of the Great Hall before everyone.

"Ahem, if we can all just settle down. Sirius, Harry, kindly put an end to your little bit of fun—"

Hushed voices of sheer bewilderment are now heard throughout the packed Great Hall.

"Fun? What does he mean?"

"Why are they all just standing there? That's fricking Sirius Black right here!"

"What the hell is going on?"

"Are they _all_ bewitched or something? Is Black that powerful?"

Dumbledore quells the crowd before continuing, "Minister Fudge has released a statement that you may see in this morning's _Daily Prophet_. As a matter of fact, here they come." He smiles as dozens of owls swoop down upon the shocked House tables to deliver the mail. Harry, still held in a headlock, turns to look towards the Slytherin table.

" _Innocent? Wrongly convicted? Harry Potter's friend?"_

_"Massive misunderstanding? Peter Pettigrew at fault?"_

As the hushed tones of disbelief echo across the Great Hall, Harry and Sirius finally point across the room and laugh. Their most boisterous one yet as they declare.

"FOOLED YOU ALL! HAPPY FINAL WEEKS OF SCHOOL!"

Almost immediately, the crowd falls deathly silent, with looks of disbelief and some disgust coming their way. But at one table, plates and goblets are knocked aside as Fred and George immediately stand up. Out of the entire Hall totalling hundreds of students, they provide the first and loudest bunch of applause. Before, gradually, others join in, even a giggling Hermione.

"LEGENDS!" declares the twins, while shaking their heads in disbelief at this morning's madness. "Can we ever beat this, Fred?"

"I don't know, oh man this sets the bar big time. The whole school pranked right here in the Great Hall, even us!" replies his twin. Then Slytherin joins in as Marcus Flint starts the applause. Though throughout the steadily increasing claps across the Hall, Harry looks to see Pansy staring at him. The five girls now sporting expressions that has Harry both scared and rather excited. Most of Hufflepuff, and of Ravenclaw, clearly express their distaste.

"How is this funny? We could've gotten hurt, or had heart attacks, or whatever!"

"And it's our final today! Potter's gonna pay for this I tell you! Darn arrogant, think he's some sort of prankster? Cedric, beat him today, please!"

"SILEEEEEEENCE!" says Dumbledore, from behind his podium. "Now as I'm sure you've all just read, Sirius Black has been wrongly convicted for over a decade. Even I have found myself fooled by the lies perpetrated by one Peter Pettigrew, who now finds what's left of himself in Azkaban. I must stress that this morning's actions will not be tolerated from _anyone_ else. Special considerations have been made since Sirius has suffered a great deal while imprisoned—"

As the speech continues, Harry turns to look up at an amused Sirius. "You, uh, ever thought you'd be sitting at the Slytherin table?"

Shaking his head, Sirius chuckles, "Never could've dreamed of it. But let's go and join your girlfriends now. They seem ready to scratch your eyes out. Good luck explaining all this to them." He now follows Harry to the end of the table where students are clearly still taken aback by Sirius Black actually being here.

For once, Harry finds himself relieved at there being someone drawing even more attention than him here. After taking their seats near the five girls, Harry watches as the entire table swarms over around Sirius. The key question being just _how_ he had escaped, and what was Azkaban like.

"Eat your veggies, stay good, and don't do drugs. Better that way than ending up in Azkaban." Sirius laughs at the bemused looks of those gathered around him. "How I got out is my secret, but what's more important is not giving them a reason to lock you in."

From the Ravenclaw table behind Harry's seat, he hears them seemingly complaining. Various voices speaking in not-so-hushed tones.

"First the Nimbus 2000 in his first year, then the Heir business, then the 2001's, then the Firebolt, and now _this_? Why does _everything_ happen at Slytherin?"

"Yeah, and it's almost always about Harry Potter. Potter this, Potter that, Potter damn near everything. What do you say, huh? Oh never mind, better not to ask this girl her opinion on anything."

"It's okay to want what others have. Jealousy is very common," says a girl's voice calmly.

"Who said we were jealous? We're just stating the facts here that Potter's always the centre of attention. It's getting highly annoying after awhile. And Slytherin thinks it's the best thing ever with him _and_ Sirius Black now at their table. Just look at them! Man, Potter really works on my nerves."

"Me too."

"Same here."

"Excuse me, but what has Harry Potter done to make you so upset?" asks the girl who's spoken before.

"Why are we even talking to this girl? If you're going to defend that arrogant Slytherin then do it somewhere else, thank you."

"Are you upset because Harry Potter had beaten you in Quidditch, Roger Davies?" asks the girl, who receives loud sighs and frustrated responses from her fellow Ravenclaws.

" _Us!_ They beat _us, OUR House,_ at Quidditch! And it was a cheap deceptive trick to suddenly make him Chaser. Ugh, stop talking to us and go play with those make-believe creatures in your head. Wobblespurts or whatever the heck they are."

Meanwhile, at the Slytherin table, Harry finally manages to convey his apologies for the prank. Though still scowling at him, Pansy and the rest eventually forgive him. Especially after he leans in to whisper that Sirius is actually his godfather.

"Oh my God! Really? _Him?_ Oh that's... wonderful, Harry! You've got fa—"

"Shhh, Pansy! Don't go telling everyone around, okay?" asks Harry, before Pansy leaps out of her seat, then runs around the table to hug him.

"And now?" asks practically everyone around her. Though Harry gives Sirius a nod gesturing that he's told her.

"How's your mother, little Miss Parkinson?" asks Sirius. "I remember her from back in the day. Is she still so vicious?"

Once seated again opposite Harry, Pansy sticks her nose up haughtily. "Maybe, or maybe not, hmph."

Breakfast continues with a constant stream of curious and amazed students gathering to speak to Sirius Black. In return, he tells them to 'cheer for Slytherin' today. "Weirdest suggestion I've ever made, Harry, seriously. How's that Firebolt I bought you doing?" he asks.

"Great, and she's got a makeover."

" _She?_ "

Daphne politely interrupts their conversation at the table. "He always regards his brooms in a feminine manner. I think it's telling us something, right girls?"

The statement brings a loud bit of laughter from Sirius, and a blush of embarrassment on Harry's part. "It's not what you think, I swear!" argues the latter.

"Former mad-insane-criminal or not, any friend of Harry's is a friend of ours. Even _Granger_ , somewhat. So, Sirius, we girls ought to get you properly dressed this weekend. Last Hogsmeade trip coming up," says Sally-Anne, while Harry swiftly shakes his head at Sirius.

"You do _not_ want to be in a clothing shop with them. Don't say I never warned you."

Sirius looks from Harry, to the girls, then back to him. "Maybe I'll let your girlfriends have their way for just a few minutes."

"Yes, Mr. Black, we'll get you looking like a proper wizard in no time. Gotta make you live up to that family name," says Daphne.

"So, you planning on getting married or anything now that everything's over?" asks Millicent.

"Excuse me?" Sirius seems quite startled by the sudden question.

"Hey, come on girls, cut my friend some slack already. It's not every day someone breaks out of Azkaban and is cleared of all charges," says Harry.

"Pansy's mother is singl—Ow!" Sally-Anne rubs her cheek after being slapped by Pansy.

"Hmph! Leave my mommy out of this one. She's not ready for anyone or anything."

Meanwhile, Sirius softly laughs before turning to whisper in Harry's direction. "Whew, and that one's your closest friend of the group? Watch out for her, claws out and all already."

"I like 'em wild," laughs Harry, before Pansy narrows her eyes at him.

"I know you're talking about me, it's pretty obvious, Potter boy." Her statement makes Sirius pat Harry on the back.

"I think"—he looks from Pansy to Harry—"that you two would make a wicked couple..."

"Yes! _Finally_ someone said it," declares Pansy, with a victorious smile.

"...which the world isn't ready for yet." Sirius' humoured remark draws much laughter from the group, and a scowl from Pansy.

Sitting opposite Sirius, and therefore with a view of the rest of the Great Hall, Tracey speaks. "Hey, I see Granger looking this way all the time. What's the Mudblood want?"

Harry swiftly scowls at her for the word, while Sirius notes his disgust at it too. The former now turning to him, "Would you like to go and chat to Hermione and Ronald? They had played a role in yesterday."

Sirius nods, "Sure, why not? Don't worry, I'll be sure to spice up your role and heroism in the story to the rest. Catch you later." He now stands up before walking across the Hall towards a surprised Gryffindor table.

Meanwhile, Harry smiles as his girls compliment Sirius while also being amazed at the sudden development. "What a strange, but awesome, choice of friends you keep, Harry," says Daphne.

"Yeah, I'm sure you girls would know all about that."

"What?!"

"Just joking, Pansy, relax. By the way, since I trust you five..." Harry allows her to whisper Sirius' relation to him which immediately elicits tearful gasps from them.

"Oh my gosh, that's beautiful," says Millicent.

"I'm really so happy for you, Harry," adds Sally-Anne, while still rubbing her cheek.

"I wonder who else here knows? Oh well, now you're even more prestigious," admits Daphne.

"Whatever," replies Harry, before Flint stands up from farther down the table. He now walks over towards Harry to inform him of not being able to accommodate Oliver Wood's request.

"Sorry, man. But this rescheduling really threw things out. They won't fit in yet another Quidditch match, even a friendly, in such a short time." Harry nods, though somewhat disappointed as Flint now has the rest of the team soon exiting the Great Hall.

"Wood's been kinda alright I guess, even if we beat him all the time. Why not use some of your wealth, Mr. Chaser-Seeker?" asks Tracey, to which Harry clicks his fingers.

"Aha! You're a genius sometimes! Yeah, I'll give him a parting gift on behalf of his most heated rival House. How about a brand new Nimbus 2001, plus Keeper gear, plus broom-servicing kit, plus... what else?"

"I think those are enough. Wouldn't wanna give the crazy Captain a heart attack from shock, haha," says Daphne. "By the way, has anyone seen Professor Lupin?"

Now Harry realizes that Lupin indeed isn't sitting at the staff table. And he wonders if word got out about his condition, though after eavesdropping on the nearby students, it seems not. He wonders if Snape would've been more vindictive, had things gone differently last night. But in the end, at least Lupin now keeps his secret safe. "Excuse me." Harry stands up, as does Sirius at the Gryffindor table, before heading to Lupin's office. They arrive to the rather depressing scene of things being packed up.

"Oh no, Remus, come on..."

Lupin flashes a slight smile, though a sad one indeed. "Unlike you, I'm not truly a free man. Last night proved just how much of a danger I can be. What if I had bitten someone?"

"Nobody knows about all that werewolf business, I swear. All they know is that you helped capture Pettigrew, come on, Moony..." says a rather saddened Sirius, while standing beside Lupin at his desk.

But the seemingly retired Professor shakes his head, "Better to leave on good terms than when things get bad. And yes, I can already imagine you'd say I was the best Defence Professor you've had, Harry. Though, truth be told, it's not like the comparison's really fair."

"You _are_ the best we've had! I mean, one idiot made us hate the smell of garlic, and he had Voldemort on his head. The other one was a dumb fraud bastard without a single bit of courage. Please stay!" begs Harry.

"You really have a way with words, you know? I'm actually more proud of all that you've learnt this year. Quite a Patronus last night from what I've heard," says Lupin, while now emptying his drawers.

"It was a snake, though I was expecting the otter to show up again. Makes no sense whatsoever."

Lupin gives this some thought before responding. "Very interesting indeed. Though judging from Dumbledore's description of its brightness and efficacy, I'd guess the snake's your actual Patronus. Slither in like a Slytherin, haha. The otter, well, a Patronus is known to change at times, though circumstances may vary quite a bit."

"Remus, you'd be doing Harry, and all these kids, a great favour by staying. Come on man, assert yourself here for a change. I'll pop in to visit if you'd like?" asks Sirius, but Lupin's mind's already made.

"No, I can't. Look, I'm really sorry about all this, but this decision is mine. In fact...ah here he comes down the corridor. Dumbledore's already arranged for my replacement. Mischief Managed." He closes the Map which is returned to Harry.

"Who—" Harry's words are interrupted as the door seemingly flies open, followed by a rather loud voice.

"Sirius Black, you clever bastard! I always thought there was something not right about that whole Godric's Hollow and Muggle blowing up story," says a rather odd-looking wizard who strides into the room.

"Um, who are you?" asks Harry.

"Who is _he_? You sure you want to ask like that?" asks Sirius, before being nudged aside by the wizard who gives Harry a rather rough handshake.

"Alastor Moody, also known as Mad-Eye, in case you can't see properly. I'll be sure to give you youngsters a _real_ Defence curriculum, no offense to you, Remus. You've done well already."

"Much appreciated," replies a smiling Lupin.

"Any tips on next year then, Sir Moody?" asks Harry, who is soon laughed at by the next Professor.

"Sir Moody? That's cute. You need to be PREPARED, Harry Potter. CONSTANT VIGILANCE is the best tip I can give you, especially with the Dark Lord no doubt still out there. That miserable, cowardly, BASTARD who couldn't even beat a baby!"

Harry chuckles softly, wondering just how much fun next school year will be, starting September this year.

"SO...study your books like no tomorrow because I'm gonna push this class hard, you hear? Now, I know a bit about the friends you keep. No doubt you've heard the stories of me chasing down your pal's mother? Yes, _Parkinson_ was a slippery one indeed. Her daughter may be your friend, but don't let your guard down. YOU NEED TO BE PREPARED for anything these days!"

"Moody, try not to scare your student too much," says Lupin, while Sirius nods in agreement.

"He's a man, I'm sure he can take it. After all, he did take a Killing Curse right to the head. I'll MAN YOU UP, HARRY POTTER! YOU HEAR?"

"YES, SIR!" replies a rather startled Harry, wondering why Moody likes to raise his voice on occasion.

"Atta boy, now, time for me to leave. Dumbledore's expecting me in his office later to finalize things. Catch you in a few months, Harry Potter. And don't worry, I'll man you up so that when the Dark Lord comes back one day, you'll kick that GODDAMN SON OF A BITCH'S ARSE! By the way, heard you're some kind of smart mouth kid with the ladies. Well, I got my trainee up in the stands for today's match, since Hufflepuff haven't made it this close to the Cup in awhile."

"Great, you brought another Hufflepuff supporter today?" asks Harry, in a rather witty manner which has Moody laughing.

"Oh darn, Ms. Tonks is absolutely gonna enjoy talking to you, Harry Potter boy."

Once Moody's left, Harry turns to Sirius and Lupin. "He's quite the character I must say."

"Oh yeah, I can tell that he likes you already. Not a bad choice for my replacement."

"Couldn't have agreed more. Mad-Eye's eccentric but he knows the good fight all too well. I'll be sure to see some good grades on your work coming from him," says Sirius, before Harry suddenly remembers something.

"Professor Lupin—"

"You don't have to call me that anymore, Harry."

"Okay, Lupin, remember what happened after my exam?"

"Oh yes, and I'm sure Sirius would be rather disappointed."

"No, sir. I _did_ actually fight Voldemort as my boggart. Though it was more myself and him mixed... suggesting that I do fear myself becoming like him."

Lupin's expression turns to shock, "But that's absurd! Then why'd you lie to me?"

"Good question," says Sirius.

"I... have a rather soft spot for Hermione. When I saw her undeservedly low score being compared to my _perfect_ performance I did what was right."

"You lowered your own mark, through possibly failing, just for Hermione Granger? That's... I don't know if that's silly or admirable right there," says an astonished Lupin.

"He's blindly in love probably. Oh man, how many girl friends do you have, Harry? Where's the boys?" asks an amused Sirius.

"Don't trust them at all, really. I can't think of a single guy I'd hang around with all day at school. Suppose I just feel more comfortable around girls, good for the eyes too, yeah."

Lupin and Sirius both chuckle at the comment, before the former speaks, "What would Prongs say to that?"

"Who's Prongs?" asks Harry.

"Your father, because of his stag Animagus form. For some reason I almost thought that'd end up being your Patronus, Harry. Guess I was wrong after all," says Lupin.

"Remus, I'd like you to at least stay and watch Harry lift the Cup, alright?" asks Sirius, to which Lupin nods.

"Wouldn't expect anything less from the son of James. Alright, lemme go grab something to eat before heading to the stadium one last time."

"Are you playing Seeker or Chaser today?" asks Sirius.

"That's classified information that stays between the team, sorry."

"Oh excuse me."

As 11am arrives, Harry eventually joins today's squad for the final against Hufflepuff. Sitting determinedly in the Slytherin locker room is Flint, Warrington, Derrick, Bole, Harry, Bletchley, and Draco.

"Alright men, we're gonna go ahead and throw them off tactics today. I assume Potter's gone and hyped Diggory up to take him on?"

"Oh yes," responds Harry.

"Good. Now make the switch"—Harry tosses his broom to be caught by a smirking Draco, who returns the gesture—"Hahaha! Let's see the look on Mister _oh-so-handsome's_ face when he realizes his opponent ain't that small today, no offense. You know, Malfoy's a fair bit taller than you."

"Yeah, yeah, go on," laughs Harry, while now holding Draco's Nimbus 2001 in hand.

"I want you men to go out there, tame those Badgers, and make them realize that nobody's better than TEAM SLYTHERIN! Now say it with me: Slytherin for the Cup! Slytherin for the Cup! Slytherin for the Cup!"

"Hufflepuff, and _Cedric Diggory_ are so going down... "mutters Harry determinedly, as the team lines up to enter the pitch for today's final. The Slytherin stands now beginning a rather unexpectedly good piece of choir, followed by motivational chanting.


	34. The Quidditch Final

"What a great day it is for our final match of the year, folks! Hufflepuff and Slytherin going at it in the big decider of the Cup. As it sits on the Quidditch board: Slytherin on 490 points while Hufflepuff holds 410."

Lee Jordan's commentary echoes loud and clear across the absolutely packed stadium. While standing in the tunnel beneath the Slytherin stands, Harry and his team can discern majority of the crowd being pro-Hufflepuff. And quite a few female screams cheering for Cedric Diggory.

"We've already got the Badgers out on the field, so let's do a recap. Seeker and Captain: Diggory. Chasers: Preece, Macavoy, Applebee. Beaters: O'Flaherty and Rickett. Keeper: Fleet. Now, here comes team Slytherin, the snakes in green stepping out onto the field!"

As they walk out onto a comfortably warm pitch, beneath clear blue skies, team Slytherin are greeted with tremendous applause from their supporters. Banners of "GREEN FOR THE CUP!" and "SLYTHER-WIN!" hang prominently displayed across their stands, while the crowd begins to chant.

_"How do you expect to win, Hufflepuff? Because if you look at our team, they just too darn tough."_

"And there you have it, people. Slytherin displaying their usual sense of humour. Alright, here comes team Slytherin, led by Chaser and Captain Marcus Flint. Keeper: Bletchley, Beaters: Derrick and Bole. Assisting Flint with the Quaffle today are Warrington and... DARN I KNEW IT! Harry Potter's playing Chaser yet again!"

Seizing the opportunity, Harry leaps atop his 2001 for today's match, then hovers before the Slytherin crowd. To their amusement and cheers, he stands on his broom and begins dancing with his arms out, not caring how silly he looks.

"What the heck is Potter doing up there? Arrogant son of—ahem! Well take a look there... is that a Nimbus 2001 he's standing on? Then that means... I SEE IT! THERE IT IS! Potter's Firebolt seems to be in use by Slytherin's Seeker today. Looks like Potter's given that broom a bit of a makeover... green stripes running along the broomstick, and some green on the tail end. Apparently the Firebolt can accelerate from 0 to 150 miles per hour in just ten seconds—"

"Jordan! Finish the introductions already and leave the broom alone!" yells McGonagall in the background.

"Okay! Looks like Draco Malfoy is flying the Firebolt today, who would've guessed? That's right, Potter and Malfoy have pulled the same trick on Hufflepuff from the Ravenclaw match. Let's see how the talented Diggory can do against Malfoy's superior broom out here. It surely is a matter of raw skill against coin!"

Minutes later, Harry stands with the team in the centre of the pitch. Flint and Diggory now shake hands as the former snarls at the smiling latter. Then Draco and Diggory stand aside while the rest of their teams eye the Quaffle and Bludgers. Madam Hooch has them mounting their brooms, before she blows her whistle.

"AND THEY'RE OFF! Flint grabs the Quaffle first before passing to Warrington. Preece and Macavoy narrowly avoid snatching it before Potter takes possession. Malfoy and Diggory now beginning their search for the snitch, while Potter is shielded from a Bludger by Derrick."

With Quaffle tucked beneath his arm, Harry leans low to speed off past Hufflepuff's Chasers towards goal. Flint and Warrington flank him on the sides. Once again, his swift attacking has taken their opponents by surprise. Soon, Harry ferociously zig-zags his broom to confuse the three Chasers behind him.

"Potter's doing the Woollongong Shimmy. Haven't seen that in a while, oh it works! Preece and Applebee battle to follow his movements as Potter passes to Flint, who now heads up to score."

Following behind the Captain, Harry knows what Flint's about to do as the opposition Chasers now close in on him.

"Reverse pass to Potter by Flint! Potter rolling right to face Fleet, shoots... SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO SLYTHERIN TODAY! Lightning fast goal from the boy with a lightning scar!"

His heart racing from the adrenaline of such a swift opening goal, Harry flies past the crowd of yellow. He turns to face the booing supporters, before performing a forearm jerk gesture. "Come at me then!" he yells, though barely audible over the deafening boos.

"Harry Potter showing it to the Hufflepuff crowd, they really don't like him at all." Indeed, swarms of yellow chant against the taunting Harry.

_"POTTER PLAYS CHASER, BECAUSE HE'S SCARED OF OUR SEEKER! CEDRIC IS BETTER!"_

This is met with a wave of uproar from the Slytherin stands as they jeer and mock at the Hufflepuffs. Both crowds now yelling at the top of their voices as, minutes later, Warrington enters the scoring area. Though only to drop the Quaffle for Harry.

"Slytherin trickery again! Warrington exits the scoring area for Potter to grab the Quaffle. Throws left, no, centre, no, LEFT... SCORES! TWENTY-ZERO TO THE SNAKES!"

 _"WARRINGTON! WARRINGTON! WARRINGTON!"_ Slytherin applauds the quality pass by a Chaser they haven't seen play since their Gryffindor match.

As Harry turns around to pursue the Hufflepuff Chasers in possession, Flint and Warrington come up beside him. "We'll do most of the dirty work and leave the finishing to you, got it?" asks Flint, to which Harry agrees. For it makes sense, in his opinion, for the bigger students to outmuscle the Quaffle and leave their nimble Chaser to strike.

"Flint, tail Applebee, I've got Preece in my sights," says Warrington, while Harry closes in on Macavoy flying behind her two Chasers.

"Potter's following Macavoy, how predictable of him, while Flint barges Applebee aside to snatch the Quaffle. Passes to Warrington as Slytherin's Chasers spin around. Oh! Lucky Bludger deflection by Bole as Flint and Warrington now head down the left side of the pitch."

Hunched low on the 2001, Harry zig-zags, rolls, and ducks out of a Bludger's path to outmanoeuvre his opposition Chaser. Meanwhile, Flint receives the Quaffle before suddenly cutting right across towards goal. "I'll take this one!" orders the Captain, before hurling it towards the left hoop.

"SAVED BY FLEET! Wait... looks like a quick swap as Flint backs off to have Warrington intercept the Keeper's pass. UNLUCKY! WARRINGTON SCORES THROUGH THE RIGHT HOOP! THIRTY-ZERO TO SLYTHERIN!"

Harry watches as Flint and Warrington has Derrick following them for defence, while Bole takes to following Draco. But to his utter disbelief, it seems Fleet suddenly caves under pressure as he fumbles a pass which Preece narrowly catches. The Hufflepuff Chaser just about flying a few metres before Harry swoops in from above.

"What is going on out here today? Potter snatches possession from Preece, before spinning around... heading for goal... shoots... SAVED! COME ON CHASERS PICK UP THAT DEFLECTED QUAFFLE! Potter once again using speed to go for a second chance... punches it... SCORES! FOURTY-ZERO TO SLYTHERIN!"

Laughing all the way, Harry streaks past the swarms of chanting Hufflepuffs while gesturing middle fingers with both hands. Until a whistle blows.

"Potter! Showboating is one thing but  _that_ is sheer disrespect. One more and it'll be a penalty against your side, understand?" asks Madam Hooch, while hovering beside a chuckling Harry.

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!"

Meanwhile, Lee Jordan grunts in disgust over the megaphone. "Did you all just see that? Middle fingers from Potter to the Badger crowd! Unbelievable, this boy is seriously in need of some discipline!"

 _"Harry! He's our little big bad boy! Now find that snitch, Malfoy,_ " sings the laughing crowd of Slytherins across their stands. As the match carries on, Slytherin scores through Flint while Preece and Applebee finally manage to beat Bletchley. The match soon becoming a series of counterattacks followed by spectacular saves from either Keeper. As the hour mark nears, Slytherin lead by 80 points to Hufflepuff's 40.

"—WHAM— There we go! That arrogant boy finally gets his just deserts. Derrick is too slow to stop that Bludger to Potter's right arm. Wonderful double hit from O'Flaherty and Rickett!"

His arm throbbing with pain, Harry holds it close as Flint yells at the Hufflepuff beaters, who in turn simply shrug.

"If he can't handle it then play something else. It's all legal what we did," says Rickett, before Hooch quells the argument. The latter now standing beside Harry who's seated on the ground beside his broom.

"Think you can carry on, Potter?" she asks, as Harry gets to his feet rather painfully.

"Yeah, I think so. Gonna be a hell of a mission to play like this now."

Once Flint has finished his round of yelling expletives, he orders Derrick to track Harry. "They're no doubt gonna target the weakest one now, stay close!"

A rather disappointed Jordan speaks, "Oh, looks like Potter's getting back onto his feet. Seems he's willing to risk playing with that arm. Yeah, yeah as expected the Slytherin crowd are louder than ever now. Game continues as Flint and Warrington grab the Quaffle."

The struggles of flying with one good arm present a new challenge to Harry, as he soon holds the Quaffle in his left. Streaking forward through the centre of the pitch, he forcibly uses his right arm to grip around the broomstick, sending jolts of constant pain.

"He's clearly struggling now, folks. Look at Potter playing nowhere near his best. Average pass to Flint who links up with Warrington while swooping upwards towards goal. Potter comes in on the right, with Derrick on his tail, and seems to be signalling for Flint to shoot."

Flint nods, while grinning at their deceptive hand signals. He speeds forward right to the start of the scoring area as Fleet hovers across the goalposts. With Harry metres behind him, Flint feigns a throw before reverse passing the Quaffle and swiftly dropping out of shooting range.

"Potter grabs it and throws through the unguarded right hoop. MADNESS AS THE INJURED BOY SCORES AGAIN! NINETY-FOURTY TO SLYTHERIN!"

Then Harry sees a glimmer of gold behind the goalposts, then yells towards Draco to his far right. "Hey, SNITCH!"

Spinning around swiftly on the Firebolt, Draco speeds forward, with a brief look of surprise even though he's practiced on it before. An alarmed Diggory now trying his best to catch up from across the field. Though his Cleansweep truly does seem like a joke compared to Harry's Firebolt.

"MALFOY'S SEEN THE SNITCH. GODDAMN LOOK AT THAT FIREBOLT GO, NOUGHT TO ONE-FIFTY JUST LIKE THAT. ABSOLUTELY MENTAL! Diggory's coming in through the centre, evades that Bludger from Bole, but Malfoy's really following behind that snitch now. What luck for Slytherin as it seems to be taking a straight route down the right side of the pitch."

Harry focuses his attention on the Quaffle as he snatches it from Preece, but with Flint and Warrington too far back, he fumbles his pass. And Hufflepuff easily intercepts through Applebee who now forms up in a Hawkshead Attacking Formation towards Bletchley.

"Potter can't do a thing as Applebee shoots... SAVED by Bletchley, no.. wait.. YES! Quaffle picked up by Macavoy as she scores through the left hoop. NINETY-FIFTY NOW."

Minutes later, Flint organizes another attack before tossing the Quaffle forward, ducks out of the scoring area, then sees Harry speeding forward to headbutt it.

"POTTER'S USED HIS HEAD BUT IT'S SAVED BY FLEET! Quaffle thrown to Macavoy again who now flies down the left flank with Potter on her tail. But what can he do now? Nothing I'd reckon."

Indeed, Harry almost yells in anger of his painful right arm causing him to break off pursuit. "Flint! Chase 'em and we'll stick to the earlier plan!" he yells before turning around to stay in the centre of the pitch. As Warrington and Flint link up with Bole's Bludger attacks, they soon take possession of the Quaffle and exploit the superior speed of their brooms. Harry sees them approach over his shoulder and speeds forward as Flint drops the Quaffle metres before him.

"Fleet comes out to try and grab that Quaffle but no... Potter scoops it up, flying without grip on his broom as he rounds the Keeper to SCORE! GOAL! THROUGH THE CENTRE HOOP, PUTTING SLYTHERIN ON ONE-HUNDRED NOW!"

Then, minutes later, Harry pushes himself to the limits of his painful arm after dispossessing Preece near the goalposts.

"Potter SCORES YET AGAIN! SLYTHERIN ON 110 NOW... Wait, what's this? Potter's signalling to Flint that he can't carry on."

After a moment's consideration, Flint agrees to let Harry land upon the ground, now standing beneath the mass of Slytherin supporters. The latter takes one look up before blowing kisses with his good hand. Though quickly stopping once he spots Snape actually standing in front of the rest. Fortunately, the Head of House seems to be watching Draco rather than Harry below.

"Potter leaves the match to a tremendous round of cheers and applause from his House. Well, he's good but now Hufflepuff have the advantage of 3 on 2 Chasers! Let's go!" Jordan's voice grows fairly softer as Harry walks through the tunnel towards the locker room.

Not wishing to head to the Hospital Wing just yet, he simply sits down for a few minutes before drawing his wand and taking aim.  _"Episkey!"_ Then eventually feels a slight reduction in pain, but not enough to fix the amount of bruising and swelling which is evident.

"You know, that spell needs a bit more than that to really work. Good try though, shame about the arm," says a voice from the locker room doorway. Looking to his left, Harry spots an unknown boy standing with folded arms.

"Haven't seen you around here before, beat it pal this locker room's for my team only. Are you even a Slytherin?" asks Harry, while smirking.

"Charming, ain't you? More like an arrogant little bugger. So, I heard that you've got an issue with Hufflepuff... is that true?" asks the boy.

"Darn Duffers always work on my nerves. I don't think I've met a single one that hasn't criticized me or my friends. Who are you, by the way?"

"Call me Todd. Now what if I told you that I'm a Hufflepuff, hmm?"

Harry's eyes widen, "What? Get out of my locker room then. You trying to spy for the team? Oh no pal, this final's already over. How many goals didn't I already score? Plus, Malfoy's gonna catch that snitch with the aid of my Firebolt. Oh yes, boy,  _my FIREBOLT!_  There ain't no broom better than Harry Potter's, hmph."

"Malfoy... interesting bunch of friends you keep, Harry Potter. So I've been chatting around with some of the girls on school. You seem to have a fair bit of reputation among them, even in Gryffindor."

A pang of dislike and jealously hits Harry at Todd's words. "Hey, hey, hey! You leave my girls alone  _pal_ , especially Hermione. No Duffer lad's hitting on my Mugglebabe. Think I'm scared to fight? Be grateful my arm's busted up, ugh. But touch me and I'll sic my girls on you. Especially Pansy Parkinson, do you know her?"

" _Parkinson_? Geez, Harry Potter, that's unexpected. You should really re-evaluate your choice of friends—"

"I'll befriend whoever I want, who's gonna stop me? You? Go back to your  _canary yellow_  army in the stands and cheer your loser team on, Todd. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll be changing out of this."

To Harry's annoyance, Todd doesn't seem to leave the locker room while the Slytherin Chaser undresses his robes. "Dude, what the hell? You're not on my team so no reason to be in here now. Give a guy some space in here, seriously! Though I wouldn't mind if a girl would show up now..."

"Aren't you a naughty one? Geez, Potter."

"You know what? Think I'll head to the showers, and stop looking at me like that. Argh, it's creepy as hell. I don't do guys,  _ever, sorry_ man! Girls are my thing"—Harry grabs a towel before heading to the showers—"Get lost!" While the action continues outside, and the score being 130-80, Harry soon finds himself in the showers. Undressed and surveying his visibly bruised right arm, he sighs loudly.

"Is that why Harry Potter's in Slytherin, and not Gryffindor? Not a bad snake down there," says a laughing Todd, while shamelessly standing in the shower entrance.

"WHAT THE—  _dude_! Not cool at all, man. You're creeping me out for days here!" says a wide-eyed Harry, while feeling as awkward as today's ever been.

"Maybe you should've been a Beater, with a  _bat_  like that. Hahahahaha!" laughs Todd.

"That's it! Where's my wand—"

"Between your legs."

The laughing boy only further infuriates an already uncomfortable Harry. "This is  _the_ most cringe-worthy thing that's EVER happened to me. Piss off already, you bloody freak!" says Harry, while essentially huddled up as he stands in a corner.

"Piss off? Hahaha, okay. So, I saw how great your broom skills are out there, now how about we assess  _that_  broomstick in here?" Todd walks towards the visibly awkward Harry while grabbing him by the shoulders.

"I'm being touched by a guy! Somebody help! NOOOOO!" Harry yelps as Todd spins him around before suddenly spanking him numerous times on his backside.

" _That_  is for being such an arrogant arse out there against my old House, Harry Potter!"

"I'm sorry," says Harry, in a surprisingly squeamish tone while now facing the corner.

"The greatly arrogant Harry Potter gets put in his place, okay, turn around already," says a strangely female voice.

Harry slowly turns around and all but jumps backwards in shock at what he sees. "Wha— How, who, wait? Polyjuice? Transfiguration? The hell? Where, wh—"

"Metamorphmagus," says a pink-haired young woman. "Can change my appearance at will.  _Nymphadora Tonks_ , newly graduated Auror. I HATE my first name though, so call me Tonks."

"S-so where's Todd?" asks Harry, too shocked to even cover himself up before the rather attractive young woman.

"Oh my word,  _Todd_  was just a joke, silly. It's Tonks, that's who I am."

"Are you a boy or girl?"

"Depends what you want, little Slytherin. Yeah, Harry Potter can dish it out but can't take a joke. Look at you cowering in fear, shame. Have I scarred you for life?"

Feeling some of his usual wit returning, since  _Tonks_ is supposedly a girl, Harry smirks. "I've already been  _scarred for life_  up here on my head."

With a wave of her wand, Tonks summons the towel from across the room after turning off the shower. "Here, cover yourself up."

Harry sighs before wrapping the towel around him while having his wet hair ruffled by this strange young woman. "I'm gonna have nightmares over this for days now. Why'd you have to be a guy when doing that?!"

Tonks walks beside him as they exit into the locker room. "Not even gonna ask  _how_ I'm able to do that?"

"Don't even care right now, too shocked at having a guy touch me. That wasn't cool at all!"

"Oh get over it already but if it makes you feel any better, I'm a woman.  _Somebody_  had to put this little showoff Slytherin in his place," says Tonks, who dries Harry off with another wave of her wand.

"Um, some privacy please?"

"It's nothing I haven't seen before."

"Alright then." Harry casually drops his towel before getting dressed in casual wear again. Though visibly wincing from the pain in his injured arm.

 _"Ferula,"_  mutters Tonks, while tapping her wand over Harry's right arm. Immediately, bandages spin around, strapping it to a splint.

"Thank you so much, mighty duffer  _Hufflepuff_ ," says a chuckling Harry, before Tonks' hair turns a bright shade of red. "Oooooh so scary! I'm trembling in fear."

"Don't make me get you in the shower again, as a guy, hahaha."

Harry's expression saddens, "Not funny at all." He now sits on a bench while trying to rub across the slight bit of pain. "Where'd you come from, anyway? Nympha—"

"Don't say that name!"

"Whoa, chill! Girl, dude, whatever! Okay, uh, how about... Dora?"

"Perfect. Haven't you met my mentor yet? Alastor Moody?"

"Oh yeah, he did mention your name, now that I think about it. Did you come here to watch Hufflepuff lose or to see the mighty baby who took down Voldemort? Hmm, Auror fangirl?" asks a smirking Harry. The witty statement met with an amused expression on Tonks' face.

"Shhh, listen." She puts her hand to her ear as the latest score is declared by Lee Jordan outside.

"...AND THAT'S ANOTHER GOAL BY PREECE! SLYTHERIN ARE REALLY STARTING TO FALL APART WITHOUT POTTER ON THE FIELD. IT'S NOW 130-110 WITH A NARROW LEAD BY THE SNAKES..."

With a smirk mirroring Harry's own, Tonks raises her brows sarcastically. "What were you saying about my House earlier?"

"Pfft, whatever! It's now a total of us on 620 against you Duffers on 520. Malfoy, on  _my_  Firebolt, will beat Diggory like nothing."

"Wanna bet on it, little snake?"

"Heck yes! 10 Galleons should be fair," says Harry, to which Tonks seems rather surprised.

"Big bet for a young man, aiming a little high there aren't we?"

"Not as high as I  _aimed_  in the shower when you became a girl," laughs Harry.

"Please, I've seen better."

"Probably on yourself."

"Wha— Oh you did  _not_ just say that!"

"You started this, so I'll end it... now how about  _you_  shhhhh and listen..."

"...MALFOY'S SO CLOSE! DIGGORY CAN'T CLOSE THE GAP ON THAT FIREBOLT... HE'S GOING TO... NOOOOOOOOO MALFOY'S CAUGHT IT! SLYTHERIN HAVE WON! THE CUP IS GOING TO THE SNAKES! FINAL SCORE 280-110, SNAKES TOPPING THE BOARD ON 750! AND 820 FOR THE HOUSE CUP. WHAT A WICKED SURGE OF POINTS FROM ALL TEAMS THIS YEAR..."

A tremendous roar of applause and cheers echo throughout the Slytherin stands upon the victory. And now Harry turns to look at Tonks before laughing right in her face. "Hahahahaha! What did I say? Huh? We are the best! Win for the green. Duffers ain't got anything on us. Whoooooooaaa yes. Huffle... puff away in smoke! Badgers can go in the bin!" Minutes of mocking celebration later, he turns to see Tonks simply looking at him.

"You finished yet, Harry?"

"Oh, sorry." He soon begins to feel surprisingly guilty about the unnecessary amount of anti-Hufflepuff statements he's now made. But Tonks soon laughs at him.

"Not like I care anymore. But you're a real sucker for girls, shame. One sad look and you melt like butter. Now, let's take you to Madam Pomfrey for that busted arm already."

"I'm staying right here for the Cup—"

"No, you're going to seek proper medical attention"—Tonks gives her best impression of Pomfrey herself—"right now!"

"Oh my G— Fine! Have it your way," says Harry, before being led out of the stadium by Tonks. Her appearance now back to her usual pink-haired self as she takes him to the fifth floor of the castle.

"Oh man, I could've casted my absolute brightest Patronus right then and there," he says, as they near the Hospital Wing.

"You can cast a Patronus? That's very impressive, you should be proud of that. So, corporeal or not?" asks Tonks.

"Corporeal, and it's a snake in case you're wondering"—Harry grins mischievously—"but longer than the one you've already seen. Forget about my Patronus though, because that meta-thingy you do is bloody amazing!"

"It helps with keeping a low profile. Speaking of which, don't go around telling people about me, alright?"

Harry looks up at the slightly taller young woman, "What a shame, never gonna ever forget this afternoon."

"Glad to have made your day, little bigmouth. I hope you're ready for Mad-Eye next year, he's a heck of a teacher, but good, trust me. By the way, I've been meaning to chat to Sirius Black, any idea where I could get him now?" asks Tonks.

"He should be visiting me in the Hospital soon. We're actually pretty close, suppose I can tell you that he's my godfather."

"Say what?"

"And that's all I'm gonna say now. Maybe we can chat again someday... if we meet again, random Auror girl."

By the time they enter the Hospital Wing, Pansy, Millicent, Tracey, Sally-Anne, and Daphne have already arrived. Hermione and Ginny have also stopped by to pay Harry a visit, though sitting away from the rest as he walks in.

"Well, this is as far as I'll hold your hand, little Slytherin. Seems you've got more than enough ladies to baby you around. Aren't you popular with the girls?" asks Tonks, before taking her leave down the corridor.

For the rest of the day, Harry finds himself cooped up in the Hospital Wing with Madam Pomfrey tending to his broken arm. At some point, he wakes up from a nap to see a rather feisty woman being chased out by Pomfrey.

"He's my patient now, Skeeter, I'm afraid your interview will have to be rescheduled!"

"Not even one minute? You've already mended his bones anyway."

"He's going to stay here and get some rest. So the answer is still no."

Much of Harry's celebrations are rather subdued, since he's confined to the Hospital Wing for the next few hours. With his arm fully healed and pain essentially gone, he takes the opportunity to catch up on rest, away from the undoubtedly wild common room now. As evening nears, Harry finds himself with just Lupin and Sirius sitting beside his bed in an otherwise empty Hospital Wing.

"The way I see it, you're hiding from the common room, Harry," says Sirius. "Partying too wild for you?"

Shaking his head, Harry grins, "Not really, I've actually been meaning to chat to Prof— I mean Lupin over here."

"We've just spoken this morning and it sounded like you've said your say," says Lupin.

"There's one topic I've forgotten. And that's about what you'll be doing after this. Will you be teaching somewhere else?"

Lupin tries to smile, though faintly, "Not really, no. I'm sure a clever little serpent like you can figure out the issues with that. Think about how long it would be until more students start seeing the pattern..."

Harry sighs, then nods, "Always sick around full moon. It's a shame such a great teacher has to leave because of that. Who did this to you anyway?"

"That was a long time ago, Harry. Nothing to be concerned about now."

"Well, I hope your secret stays just that. For God's sake if I catch anyone spreading rumours about you in this school now—"

"No need to be so defensive over Remus, trust me"—Sirius now turns to look at Lupin sitting beside the bed—"I think Harry's trying to pull a James on you, and he won't take  _no_  for an answer."

"You don't have to make me a burden on your wealth, especially since you're only 13. Gonna be a long time until you get yourself some income," says Lupin, while suddenly refusing to look Harry in the eye.

"Moony takes the odd job or two to support himself," adds Sirius, but Harry remains adamant.

"If it were Quirrell or Lockhart I'd happily see them live in poverty, because they deserve it. But never Moony. Look, I'm no arithmantic genius but I can do some math. I've been told there's like... forty-thousand galleons in my vault. What's it for me to just give you 20 galleons a month?" asks Harry, while doing the math in his head now.

"No, I don't need you to use your parents' money on me. That vault was left for you, not me."

"Over four to five years, until I'm graduated and hopefully working, that's only gonna set me back a bit over a thousand galleons. Plus, 20 g's a month shouldn't be too bad for one person. Come on, Lupin."

Sirius chuckles at the expression on Harry's face, "You'll never hear the end of this. Just take the charity and make good use of it, man."

"Then once I'm graduated and working wherever, maybe I can get you a job, Moony! Screw whatever anti-werewolf laws there are. You can keep that job as long as you want, and if anybody complains about your illness then I'll just fire them," says Harry. "Or perhaps kill them."

"Whoa, no need for such drastic measures." Lupin finally laughs, "Fine, I'll accept your offer, James."

"James?" asks Sirius.

"Well, to be fair, it is his middle name I suppose."

"Where do you live, Lupin? Maybe I can visit you when it's safe to do so?" asks Harry.

"Charity is enough. Let's not make this too personal, alright?"

"But—"

Sirius sighs, "You've already done more than enough for him, Harry. Well, I suppose it's time for us to go. One retired Professor and a godfather can't stay everyday at school now, can we?" asks Sirius, before standing up. "Dumbledore's busy organising accommodations at my old family place. He insists on letting you stay at the Dursleys for at least a couple weeks, then I might come and fetch you. Or you could also rotate with the Burrow or even with Hermione, I dunno. Too many places, too little time for one boy."

"Sure thing, but will Moony pop in too?" asks Harry, which only causes Lupin to sigh and shake his head. Feeling rather disappointed and sad, Harry bids them farewell before trying to catch a light nap until dinner. And while rolling onto his side to shut his eyes, he hears Lupin and Sirius speaking.

"He's rather clingy, I must admit," says Lupin.

"Can't blame the poor kid."

"You'd better take good care of that boy. Not all of us are fortunate enough to have such a great godson. And I'm not talking about his fame."

Half an hour's worth of sleep soon ends with Harry being woken by Madam Pomfrey. "You're free to go now, Mr. Potter. Do make sure to get a good helping of dinner tonight." After thanking her, Harry makes his way to the grand staircase. But along the way he ends up being pulled into a corridor by a woman who seems to have found them an empty classroom.

"The hell?"

"Rita Skeeter, reporter for the  _Daily Prophet_ ," she says, after having shut the door and placed Harry in an old desk.

"Oh darn, and here I had other ideas on why a woman would drag me into a classroom," says Harry. He spots Rita dragging another desk to face his, before sitting down and unfolding a lengthy bit of parchment on it.

"Excuse me?" she asks, quite startled by the remark. Though she soon explains about her Quick-Quotes Quill, which seems to scribble with a slight mind of its own.

Harry laughs, "Is that thing really accurate? Okay, testing... Harry Potter, suddenly pulled into a room by a woman he barely knows. She's sitting right across him, unable to contain herself from staring into his lovely green eyes—"

"Scratch that please, now, let's start over." Rita begins their little interview. "I'd better watch out for this one," she mutters, as Harry leans back, folds his arms, and adopts a smirking expression.

 


	35. As Another Year Ends

As the days pass by towards the end of term, everything just seems to have gone so right for Harry. He reckons that he may not be the best of planners, but somehow Draco suspects nothing on his part with regards to Buckbeak's escape. Although Harry's friendship with Hagrid is in plain view of everyone to see, there just seems to be no fingers pointing his way. It also helps that Draco just happens to have been the first Seeker in school to fly a Firebolt in a match, a fact he mentions nearly every single day. That, and Snape's elaborate speech on congratulating the team—mostly Draco—on winning the Cup seems to have put the entire Slytherin House in great spirits.

At some point in the week, Harry even receives a letter from a common delivery owl that reads:

_To: Harry Potter_

_Thank you for making Draco's day. We've received at least two letters of him telling us all about winning the Cup on a Firebolt. Poor darling can't contain his excitement very well._   _He seems to have forgotten that we had been to see the match._

_And yes, Dobby is well, no need to ask._

_P.S.: Don't tell Draco we've sent this letter._

_P.P.S.: Don't forget about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup._   _Lucius suggests betting at least 200 galleons on the Irish side._

_Regards: Mrs. Malfoy._

The only thing which Harry regrets is being unable to have Lupin for another year. A sentiment shared with many of his fellow students, especially as nobody uncovered the true nature of what occurred on the 6th of June. Even Slytherins begin to admit that he had been a 'fairly useful' Defence teacher. With many wondering just who's next in line to teach, the usual bit of hope arises around the dungeons of Snape finally getting the post. Although Harry knows who it is, he decides to keep it a surprise.

Friday morning sees a rather elaborately written article appear in the  _Daily Prophet_ , written by Rita Skeeter. Pansy and the girls waste no time in reading out loud the surprisingly likable article on Harry's version of events leading up to Pettigrew's capture. Of course, he omitted the werewolf and time turner incidents completely.

The closer it gets to the end of term, the shorter the days seem to feel as they race by. Saturday's final Hogsmeade trip of the year sees Harry and Sirius braving the clothing store with the girls. They seem to have taken quite a liking to the older wizard and, after an hour of shopping, finally settle upon plain black robes for him. Even more amusing for Harry are the still-suspicious and fearful looks sent Sirius' way while walking around Hogsmeade.

As the final day of school nears, the exam results are finally released. Harry briefly explains about the circumstances surrounding his low A score on Defence. This swiftly elicits glares from his girls towards Hermione seated across the Slytherin-themed Great Hall. Having been declared the winner of the House Cup for yet another consecutive year seems to have put the Slytherin table in a tremendously good mood. Looking towards the staff table, Harry spots one of the closest things to a smile on Snape's face. The latter now boasting to no end with a rather frustrated-looking McGonagall.

"Wow, Harry, not a bad report I must say," says Pansy, while holding the results parchment in her hand. Indeed, glancing down, Harry reads:

_Astronomy: 61% (A)_

_Care of Magical Creatures: 105% (O)_

_Charms: 120% (O)_

_Defence Against the Dark Arts: 50% (A)_

_Divination: 78% (E)_

_Herbology: 70% (E)_

_History of Magic: 60% (A)_

_Potions: 96% (O)_

_Transfiguration: 77% (E)_

_Comments (optional):_

_Defence Against the Dark Arts needs improvement._

_Top of the class in Potions, now don't go boasting about it,_ **_Potter_ ** _._

_May you see many more visions in the Orb._

_Well done on that Cheering Charm! Top of the class._

_Excellent work with the Flobberworms._

_Good to see you've revised your Transfiguration, but still room for improvement._

Unable to resist a big smile, Harry waves off any questions regarding his 'shocking' Defence score. Instead, he feels smug in knowing that he's at least beaten Hermione at two subjects. Considering that Flitwick and Snape have mentioned him being on top. It would have been 4 O's total, and beating Hermione at Defence, had Harry not raised her mark at his expense.

"What did you girls get?" asks Harry, who hears that all of them had passed. Pansy seems to have excelled at Defence and Exceeded Expectations in Transfiguration. Daphne averaging everything at high 70's, Millicent and Tracey averaging everything at high 60's, though Charms and Herbology at near 80's. Sally-Anne seems to have averaged between 60-70's though getting an Outstanding in Charms and Astronomy. Nearly everyone seems to have gotten Outstandings for Hagrid's class, since it had been the easiest exam ever.

As the final day of school nears its end, Harry comes across Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood exchanging handshakes in the paved courtyard. For all the bitter rivalry and dirty matches between these two, he notes the respect that has actually formed between them.

"Gonna miss beating your team in every match, Wood."

"Yeah, well, at least you still have another year in school."

"Very funny, seventh year was killer. But hey, now I get to win one more Cup before leaving school."

Harry gawks, "Wait, what? You... failed your final year, Flint?"

But the Captain doesn't seem bothered, "Who cares? Wait until you get to final year. The work gets insane then. Plus"—Flint eyes Harry carefully—"I still got unfinished business here. Need to make sure Montague's ready to step up to Captain, and  _you_  eventually."

"Me?" Harry seems surprised, though both Flint and Wood seem unfazed.

"Come on, Harry. It doesn't take a genius to see where Gryffindor and Slytherin are headed. One day we'll have Ginny as our Captain and you'll be leading Slytherin. Now  _that_  is going to be an interesting time I must say," admits Wood.

"Better make it quick then. Although Montague's planned for next year, I'd prefer if you took over in your fifth year, Potter," says Flint.

"And if I became Captain in my fourth year, then there's nothing stopping Ginny from doing the same. Don't wait too long, otherwise you won't have many years to fly against each other," says Wood. The pair of Captains then exchange a final handshake with a shoulder tap.

"I assume we're all gonna organize us tickets to the World Cup final?" asks Flint.

"Definitely. And by the way, you might wanna keep your eyes open for a gift this summer, Wood. Think of it as consolation since we couldn't organize that farewell match you wanted," says Harry.

"What is it? Something cool? Must be Quidditch-related—"

"Relax, man," laughs Harry, before heading to the common room to begin packing up, then relaxing well into Friday night. The following morning sees many students awake with enthusiastic expressions.

"SATURDAY!" yells Pansy, somewhat excited and yet saddened, since the Express is scheduled to leave this morning. Indeed, even Harry feels a fair bit sad, considering how eventful this year had been. But to his amazement, she later brings a surprising bit of news once they're on the train. "Harry, guess what?"

"What?" asks a laughing Harry, while sharing a compartment on the Express with his five girls.

Pansy, practically bouncing in her seat, produces what appears to be two tickets. "Quidditch world cup final! Ta-da! One for you, and one for your godfather. Mom bought them for all of us. And my cousin's coming too, you remember, right? The one that writes all those letters?"

"Oh yes, I do. Wow, thanks a  _million_! But what about you girls?" asks Harry, before hearing that the others have begun organizing their tickets already.

"Who are you gonna cheer for in the World Cup? Oh wait, it's probably gonna be hard as hell for you to keep up with the results," says Daphne, now looking at a nodding Harry.

"Oh sure, I'll just wait for the  _Daily Prophet_ to show up on my Muggle home's doorstep every morning. Whatever. I suppose I'll just ignore everything until getting to see the final. That's all that interests me."

Tracey gives him an odd look, "Really? I'd have thought _you_  of all people would be going nuts over the prospect of a  _Quidditch_  World Cup."

"As far as I'm concerned, national teams can get lost. I only care about myself and players like Ginny around here," admits Harry.

"I think he's jealous again. What? Afraid you'll be seeing someone better than you flying around, Potter boy?" asks Pansy.

"Better than the great Harry James Potter? Hmph!"

"Yep, totally jealous as heck," says Sally-Anne.

"Get over it already," adds Millicent, as the journey continues for a good while longer. At some point, Hermione knocks on their compartment door, causing much looks of disdain from Harry's friends.

"Excuse me." He stands up, then heads to open the door and grab Hermione into a brief hug, causing Pansy to scoff. "What's up?"

"Ron was telling me about this Quidditch World Cup, and how his father's trying to organize tickets to the final—"

"It's okay, I've already got for me and Sirius to come. But do tell his parents that I appreciate the gesture. The only Quidditch player you should be watching is me though—Ow!" Harry laughs as Hermione pulls him by the hair.

"Alright then. Well, it's been a great third year, hasn't it? I'll be sure to write you a letter, Muggle-style, or perhaps call you? If your family would allow it?" asks Hermione.

"Hate me or not, they can't deny that I've been a good boy at home for quite some time. Let's see how things play out when I get back. And I do hope to see you at the Final in August, alright, Mugglebabe?"

The statement is met with a smile from Hermione, before she turns around to return to Ron, who's seated in his compartment farther down the train. By the time they reach Platform 9 and 3/4, Harry exits the train while walking beside his girls. Moments later, they cross the barrier to step into the Muggle side of King's Cross station.

"Oh, there's your mom, Pansy!" says Millicent, while pointing towards a familiar woman.

"She looks nice like that, I guess you folks really do know your Muggle fashion a fair bit," says Harry, upon seeing Mrs. Parkinson wearing a business suit. Though seemingly annoyed at having to hide her Wizarding status by order of the Statute of Secrecy.

"Mommy!" declares Pansy, before running a few metres to hug the taller, stern-faced woman. But as they walk a short distance ahead, Harry cannot help but laugh at the scene ahead.

"Seriously? Don't you people even read or watch the news? Everyone around here knows it was all a big misunderstanding. Nobody's even so much as looking at me now," says Sirius, while speaking to a trembling Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley.

"He's a convict, Petunia, a bloody convict! Call the police at once!" says Vernon, who soon turns to see Harry, his girls, and Mrs. Parkinson looking on in amusement.

"Your cousin, and uncle, both need to lose weight, seriously," whispers Millicent, in a chuckling Harry's ear.

"Harry! I was just having a friendly chat with your lovely family. I think we can all agree that you'll be enjoying your summer at home"—Sirius looks intently at a terrified Vernon—"right?"

"Muggles, always so stupid," mutters Mrs. Parkinson. "But at least you have a respectable friend, Harry Potter."

Hilarity of the interaction of Sirius and the Dursleys aside, Harry realizes that it's best to follow Dumbledore's wishes. From what Harry's been told already, his godfather has an ancestral home hidden somewhere, though Sirius seems unable to disclose its location.

Once Pansy and the rest have bid Harry farewell at the station, Sirius tells him that he'd hate to go back to his home. With the station nearly empty, they now speak in hushed tones. "So why not buy another house then? You're a free man, and you're rich! Nothing's stopping you, right?" asks Harry.

"Wrong. Oh trust me, I'd absolutely love to have my own place somewhere. But even though I'm a free man, the Dark Lord is still out there, hiding. It's times like these where he plays to his strengths. Working from the shadows with an incompetent Ministry not doing a thing to find him," says Sirius, while the Dursleys stand nearby, clearly impatient to go home.

"Come on, boy! We don't have all day!" scolds Vernon, to which Harry sighs.

"Would you rather I invite Sirius Black over to Privet? Actually, that sounds like a great idea—"

Vernon's expression instantly turns to horror, "N-No, no, no that won't be necessary. Take your time then, w-we'll be over there on the bench." Indeed, the Dursleys soon walk over to take a seat on the nearest bench at the station.

"Using me as your boogeyman, eh? Fair enough. Anyway, the Dark Lord probably has some idea of my relationship with you, in some way. Peter may not have been with him recently, but he's probably informed him of things back then. The decision to have me as your godfather was somewhat known among our people, including Peter."

"But what if Voldemort doesn't remember?" asks Harry.

"Too much of a risk already. That, plus I'm not sure how much contact there's been between the Death Eaters still out there. Like Lucius Malfoy, your friend's mother, et cetera. I can't be too sure if the Dark Lord hasn't been reminded again of me being your godfather."

"That would pretty much make you a priority target, I suppose," admits a rather saddened Harry.

"But on the bright side, Dumbledore has said that I can stay with Moony for awhile, or at least until before the next full moon. After that, well, I guess I'll have to head home. You should be able to visit at some point. However—"

The tone in Sirius' voice suddenly has Harry worried.

"—I'm afraid that I simply _cannot_  allow your Slytherin friends to visit. You're a smart boy, Harry, and I know those girls are good. But if there's one thing the Dark Lord is good at, it's turning good people against each other. The last thing I'd want is for your friends, even the Parkinsons, to be interrogated for information."

Harry nods while taking Sirius' warnings seriously. The logic of things seems to make sense and he reckons that Dumbledore has thought everything through quite well, considering the circumstances.

"Also, I've recently been in contact with my niece, who I'm told you've met in a rather awkward fashion."

"Niece? What niece? Who?"

"Nymphadora Tonks, you remember her?"

Harry sighs, before chuckling a fair bit. "Oh my word,  _her_ , yeah I remember! How in the world are you people related?"

Sirius chuckles, "Well, standing out here in the middle of a Muggle train station isn't exactly the right place to be having such conversation. Here's the deal: spend a month or so at the Dursleys, then maybe I can ask Dumbledore to have you visit from your birthday onwards. Not like I'm planning on being home anytime soon."

Although he remains confused over some of the information conveyed to him, Harry agrees. "Can't really go against Dumbledore's wisdom I guess. Well, time for Muggle holidays again."

"You'll survive, I'm sure. Just be prepared to do some hectic cleaning, and I don't just mean dust and grime, when you visit my darn home," says Sirius. And with that, Harry finally climbs into the Dursleys' car to head home. Sirius, meanwhile, prepares to live a little with Lupin, wherever the latter might now be.

By the time they reach number 4, Privet Drive, the Dursleys head inside. Harry then takes his trunk, and Hedwig, upstairs. "Ah, home SWEET home!" says Harry, part annoyed, and surprisingly part content with being back here.

"Boy! Come downstairs!" orders Vernon, before Harry races down the steps to find the Dursleys seated in the living room.

"Are we having a meeting or something?"

"Sit down," says Petunia, before the topic swiftly turns to Sirius as Harry is repeatedly questioned with regards to him having a godfather.

"It's true, every single bit of it. Don't believe me? Then ask Albus Dumbledore," says Harry calmly, enjoying the sudden change of expression on his aunt's face. "He's also been cleared of any and all charges, here and in the  _other_  world." The look on Vernon's face is enough to make Harry burst into fits of laughter, but the latter remains as nonchalant as possible.

"Well, so long as you keep that  _madman_  away from our house, maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement?" asks Vernon, clearly not enjoying this predicament.

"Oh don't worry, there shouldn't be any freaky things happening here. All I want is to have a phone call or two, and write some letters to a friend—"

"Oh no! No bloody way am I having a dozen owls and pigeons flying all over!" says a purple-faced Vernon.

"Uncle, relax. I was going to say that it'll be plain and simple, pen and paper. And no, there won't be any freaky plotting, codewords, scheming, nor conspiracies being sent. Just two friends having a chat. That okay?" asks Harry.

"What?  _Normal_ letters? You?" Vernon laughs heartedly with the rest of the Dursleys, "You're joking, right?"

Harry shakes his head, "Uh-uh. I've got this brilliant and pretty friend whose parents are non-magical folks. I just feel like writing to her and stuff."

"I'm... going to go upstairs," says Petunia suddenly, before soon heading upstairs in a surprisingly swift manner that has Harry and the rest somewhat confused.

"Uh, okay? Anyway, so, deal?" asks Harry.

"Fine, yeah. Just no criminals and madmen on our streets," says Vernon, before standing up and heading to the kitchen refrigerator.

With nothing to really speak with Dudley, Harry happily heads upstairs to begin writing a plain and simple letter to Hermione. Although it feels strange to be using pen and paper, he nonetheless keeps things polite, non-Magical, and simply wishes her a happy summer holidays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the feedback! I do plan on continuing this series through subsequent fics.


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